Break On Through to the DEFUNCT Side
by OldCrowMedicineShow
Summary: What spells a good weekend of solitary hunting? Beer, steak, DVDs of a guy's favorite cartoons, and the anticipation of breaking last year's buck-point record. What isn't? Getting somehow shoved into a fake world and being threatened with violence and death. Still, survival rates in Tamriel are higher than in other Bethesda worlds.
1. 1: Huntsman of the Great White North

Break On Through To The Other Side

Chapter I

Huntsman Of The Great White North

He took it slow down the slushy pavement, turning down the radio so he could concentrate on finding his way to the hunting grounds. The old clunker he drove was a mid 90's Toyota truck, tannish-gray, with all the characteristics that were afforded in that decade: that is to say, dull. The interior was much the same. The dashboard was a brownish thing with ancient coffee-cup rings ingrained into the plastic. The radio had only a tape-player that didn't even work anymore. The old _Foreigner_ tape stuck in there was pretty much permanent and couldn't even play, the latter being of no chagrin to the truck's driver; they were awful 80's drivel. But it's used, so what do you expect?

The driver, Huey Sylvester, shifted in his seat, his ass starting to fall asleep from the two-hour drive from his town to his late uncle's hunting cabin. Uncle Rick had been fond of the place, and he loved to bring Huey and his father every winter to try and bag some bucks. Huey had gotten a few bucks in the ten years he'd been hunting with them. One a twenty-one pointer! He had managed to beat Uncle Rick's record by two points. But no matter how many bucks either he or his uncle could shoot-up, it never beat the time Huey's father, Randal Sylvester, had ventured out one fateful morning to take a piss, only to stumble upon a bear that had somehow come out of hibernation. The bear, irate for whatever reason, had chased him back into the cabin, where he promptly grabbed his slug-loaded Remington 12-guage and blew it away. It later turned out the thing had had rabies. An uncommon occurrence, but not unheard of.

Huey would be going up alone this year, though. His Uncle had died of lung cancer a few years back, and that had nearly destroyed his father. He wasn't quite ready to move on, even today, which is why he never came to the cabin anymore. Huey, however, could never turn down a chance to be up here. It was a bit sad, but somewhat refreshing to be up in the mountains on his own. Gave him a nice retreat from the stresses of family life. And he could potentially bring a winter's worth of venison (or moose if he was lucky) home.

Huey spotted rear-lights ahead, breaks on. It was another truck, bigger than his own, and newer. It was jet black but for the spots where paint had been worn. The drivers didn't mind going through mud and gravel at high speeds, that's for sure. And apparently they don't mind shooting out the window. Huey grimaced as he spotted the muzzle of a rifle aiming out the passenger window. He looked to where it was pointed, and unsurprisingly saw off in the distance of a frozen marsh some deer staring back at them, ignorant of the danger. It was this kind of shit that made Huey seriously consider becoming a game warden. He could see it now. These chumps blissfully unaware that a state truck was sidling up behind them, catching them right in the act of 'hunting' from the interior of their vehicle. Then with a high-pitched _Whoop!_ and a flash of blue lights, the dimwitted deer would bound off, and the dumbstruck shooter would scramble to stow his rifle away to try and look like he wasn't doing anything wrong. Definitely he'd scramble to unload the weapon. Remember kids: if you're not allowed to keep a loaded weapon in your vehicle, then you're sure as shit not allowed to fire it out the God damned window on the side of the road.

Alas, Huey didn't have authority over these knuckleheads. Oh sure, he could get the license number and make a call to the wardens, but they still would've shot at the deer, maybe even kill one. They'd probably trudge out there, take a couple of pictures for Facebook, then fuck right off and leave the carcasses to rot. Not even bother with preserving the meat. So Huey did the only thing that actually helped: he lowered the windows and blasted his radio. The deer tensed when they heard Bruce Springsteen crowing about a pink Cadillac, and a barely audible, "What the fuck!" could be heard from the black truck.

Huey then blared the horn and hollered, "Gotta move that gear up!" out the window. The deer listened to his advice and leaped into the woods. Next he heard another "Fuck!" from the truck and the guy unloaded all his rounds wildly. Huey doubted he had hit anything, as the animals had all disappeared in the tree line. Laughing wildly, Huey roared off past the other truck and didn't look back.

* * *

Just as Huey had asked, Mick Hutchins—the guy who plowed for all the old cabins around here and did general care-taking—had done just that for Uncle Rick's place. Huey had no trouble going over the hardened dirt road. No ice had accumulated and made the thing skate-central; just packed snow and dirt. Soon enough, shadowed by the pine giants rising overhead like nature's monuments, Huey came to the log cabin. He was pleased to see the keeper was already inside. His truck was parked beside the deck, and the lights were on. Huey pulled up beside his vehicle and killed the engine. As he climbed out of the truck, the oldish man stepped out the front door. In his late sixties but still pretty spry, Mick was a man with wiry white hair and a great big bushy beard. He was shrouded in a thick jacket, the torso blazing hunters' orange, while the sleeves were a dark red with a plaid pattern. He wore heavy Carhartt overalls and brown Doc Martins on his feet. Huey could make out the smile nearly hidden by his mustache as he waved.

"'Lo there, Hugh!" he crooned, shambling down to deck to meet Huey.

"Afternoon, Mick," Huey returned, shaking his hand.

"Place all toasted up for ya," Mick let him know, placing his hands on his hips. "Need a hand with your stuff?" he asked, glancing back at the covered truck bed behind Huey.

"Sure, thanks," Huey agreed, going back to lift up the hatchback and lower the tailgate. Ammunition, a rifle (Huey's own Remington Whitetail, complete with scope), survival gear, a twelve-pack of beer, and a few bags of food. Mostly stereotypical manly man fare: beer, steaks, ground beef, chips and dip, pretzels, cheese, bread, and potatoes. All of it was brought to the kitchen, where Huey and Mick shared a Carling lager.

"Hoping to beat your record this winter?" Mick asked.

"When am I not?" Huey shot back with a grin. Mick snickered.

"That's easy to answer." They each sipped their beer for a bit before Mick went on, "Big storm's comin' in a few days." Huey sighed wistfully.

"Yeah, so I've heard," he muttered. That was one bummer for his week out here, a two-day blizzard. But that wouldn't be arriving for a while, so he might have time to get _something_. Even just a porcupine in a trap would do. Porcupine pot pie is pretty tasty, after all.

"But I've been looking around some," Mick told him, "and there're tracks a ways west of here, I'd say two miles. Elk, it's a pretty good lead."

"Yeah," Huey said, nodding. "Yeah, it is, thanks. I'll keep an eye out." Mick nodded and sipped his beer again. He looked like he was about to ask something, but seemed to think better of it and took another drink. Huey could imagine he wanted to ask about his father, if he would ever come back. He was glad he didn't. Right now he didn't want to think about his old man. He had taken up smoking again after Rick had died, along with some heavy drinking. He wasn't abusive or anything, but his bitterness didn't help at all. Huey had his own place by now, but his mother often wanted to stay for dinner to get away from Randal. It was a mess of bitter irony at home, but Huey didn't want to bother himself with it for this one week. Bleeding hearts crying out on his selfishness (like his parents' nosy neighbors) be damned, a guy needed a week away from it all every now and again so he wouldn't go ballistic trying to deal with it.

Huey just noticed he had finished his beer a little too quickly when his thoughts strayed so, and so did Mick.

"Welp," the old man said, placing his beer on the counter and standing upright. "I best be off. I've gotta check on some other places, like'd to get it done before dark... like that'll ever happen," he grumbled.

"I hear ya, buddy," Huey agreed, walking with him to the front door.

"Take care, Hugh," Mick said as he stepped out.

"You, too," Huey replied. Huey closed the door and sighed and went to the kitchen for another beer.

* * *

Huey had been restless his first night at the cabin. Not a first, he had been so ever since first coming up alone. Some things you never got used too, it seemed. He tried to ease his mind with a bit more beer, but by then half of it was gone and he wanted to make it last for the next week, so he settled for some TV. DVDs of _Adventure Time_ and _The Venture Bros._ helped with his creeping insomnia, and it was about two in the morning when he finally crawled into bed, and took another forty-five minutes to fall asleep. Then the AM reared its ugly head at five, giving him a whopping two-hours of sleep. If he wanted to catch something, he had to be up early. He wasn't going to let some shitty force of nature like sleep get in his way. Honestly, of all the things evolution conjured up, sleep was the most wasteful.

Sucking it up, Hugh went to the kitchen for copious amounts of coffee. When that didn't help, he decided to strip naked and swan-dive into a snow bank. Finally fully awake, he went inside to dress into his hunting garments and head out. He brought all the necessary gear to last out in the cold, and some extra survival gear in the unlikely but still possible event he got stranded at dark.

For a few hours he ventured the woods, checking all the outposts that had been set up over the years. Sick of walking, he stuck around one of the oldest ones, which was obvious by how gray and stripped the wood was. Still it held decently enough. Give a few years, though. It'll come crashing down, it was older than Huey was. So he sat and waited, a thermos of lukewarm coffee between his legs, which he sipped straight-up without the cup. Occasionally he peered over the railings to see if he could spot some critters, but mostly he relied on his ears. Despite the gray of the skies above, wind was hardly blowing, casting the woods in that eerie winter silence. This place was far from any road, too. Not even the roars of eighteen-wheeler engines traveled this far out. It was majestic, to say the least.

 _...When the green, dark forest was too silent to be real..._ Huey recited in his head. He took another sip of coffee and looked over the edge once more. A fox was down there, to his surprise. He was a quiet one, avoiding any branches that may snap and give away his presence. Smart fella.

"Bloody piker," Huey muttered, staring down at the creature. He drew his bowie knife and pointed it down at the fox.

"Stab, stab, stab!" he murmured, grinning wolfishly. The fox looked up at him in surprise, only hesitating a moment before darting away. Huey leaned back again and sheathed his knife, followed by another mouthful of coffee. He grimaced with disgust. Not only too cold, but not enough cream or sugar. Morning rushes, le sigh.

Huey yelled out when an enormous crack sounded off beneath him. He sat up but stayed stock still, listening as the perch beneath him creaked and groaned lethargically. Huey regretted trying to estimate this thing's durability, because the estimation had apparently been under.

So, in order to get out of this pickle, he had to be slow and method-

Another great crack signaled the doom of the outpost. The branch that held it tilted downward, making Huey tumble back. He might have been saved by the railing, if that had not decided to spontaneously give up the ghost like the rest of the goddamned thing. And before he knew it, he was on the ground with a thud. Breathless and stupefied, Huey laid there and stared at the gray sky for a while, a perfect view of the shabby outpost now limp and useless. His thermos was still up there somehow-

And with that, a gust of wind shook the outpost. The thermos fell down, spilling coffee everywhere. The cool coffee and tin thermos hitting Huey in the noggin was what spurred him into action:

"Cock-sucking shit-humping dick-licking fag-sucker!" he bellowed, scrambling to his feet and trying to wipe the coffee off his face. He took off his orange wool hat, now soaked and useless, and used the dry spot to clean himself off. With that done, he bent over and picked up his rifle.

"Okay, I think I'm done here," he grunted, hanging the gun strap over his shoulder and making for the cabin, following his footprints.

A low growl reached his ears from behind. He froze, his breath catching. A chill went up his spine as he finally detected the presence behind him. He turned slowly, not knowing what to expect, besides something big and pissed off at him. To his shock and awe, it was the hugest goddamned mountain lion he had ever seen, glaring at him with blazing yellow eyes. No, scratch that... this thing... it was... a fucking saber tooth?! Sure enough, long curved fangs hung from the creature's upper lip. It bared the rest of its yellowed chompers in a mix of hunger and disdain, the fur on its back standing on end, its tail whipping back and forth. The monster was about forty-feet from Huey, but it seemed much closer due to its size. He had encountered bobcats and even wolves out here, but they typically shied away from people (he had a stuffed bobcat back at his pad, in fact). But not only was this cat ready to chow down on Huey... it was a fucking _saber tooth!_ No seriously, what the actual fuck?

Huey had a feeling pretending he was bigger than it by raising his arms like a retarded fourth grader would not deter the beast from having its way with his giblets. It took its first step forward, and Huey acted. He pulled the rifle from his shoulder. Now the beast snarled and charged with alarming speed. Despite his panic, Huey flicked off the safety, shouldered, looked through the scope, saw a yellow eye staring back at him through the lens, and pulled the trigger. The crack of the rifle assaulted his ears with a terrible ringing. The beast fell soundlessly in the snow just a few feet from Huey, blood pouring from the entrance wound between its glazed eyes (which still somehow looked furious). Huey slowly lowered the rifle, arms shaking. His ears out of the equation for the moment, he quickly looked around, trying to see if the beast had friends waiting nearby. He was on guard for a good few minutes as his hearing slowly returned. Since nothing in the forest made a sound because of the rifle, he was reduced to snapping his fingers near an ear to see if he could hear again. When it returned to normality, Huey turned tail quickly and made for the cabin.

Just as he thought about calling a game warden to come see the damned thing, wind suddenly billowed behind him. Its arrival was more eerie than the actual sound itself. One second, complete silence, besides the crunch of Huey's boots in the crystallized snow. The next, a deep thunder of rushing air, creaking trees and snapping branches. Before he could turn around, it knocked him right onto his face with the force of a hurricane gale. When he tried to stand, the weight held him fast on the ground. It seemed impossible, but the wind was now blowing directly _down_. Not at an angle, like a wind being funneled into a valley, but straight down like a B52 had dropped a load of bricks on top of him. Huey instinctively covered his head, afraid that something like that might occur. After a long-extinct animal had tried to gank him, and a vertical wind was forcing him on the ground, any God damned thing was possible. The freezing wind cut through his layers like a knife, and the snow bit his cheeks as he kept his head down. Somehow it began to become darker. Huey blinked the make sure he wasn't closing his eyes without realizing it. No, his eyes were wide open. He cried out, terrified he was somehow becoming blind.

The wind carried on for a few moments more before suddenly being snuffed out. Huey gasped and scrambled to his feet, clutching his rifle and looking around. He stared around. He was still in the snowy forest... but... it was different. This wasn't the spot he was in before. The trees were different. Glancing around, he couldn't see either his footprints nor the wrecked outpost. Huey swallowed, slowly venturing forward. There were a lot more pine trees, too. The particular spot he had been in earlier had had a few more leafy trees (or lack of leaves, thereof) than pines. But this wood was choked with pines. Beasts of pines, jutting in the sky like monoliths. The sky had cleared up somewhat, too. He could see smudges of blue between the gray blots. The sun suddenly poked through one of these spots, letting some temporary golden warmth fall on Huey's face. He stopped for just a moment to relish it, before the sun disappeared again. The warmth gone, Huey steeled his nerves and began walking. He knew it wasn't a good idea to move when lost in the woods... which... is why he decided to stop. He remembered the flare gun he had brought with him. Normally he wouldn't, but since he started coming up here on his own, he always brought one with; including five spare flares. He fumbled with his layers and withdrew the orange pistol. Pointing it up to the sky, he pulled the trigger, unleashing the bright red beacon to fly up high, before bursting into a bright star of light. Now the waiting began.

"What is that?" a somewhat distant voice sounded from the woods. Not believing his luck, Huey called out loudly before jogging forward. He found himself facing a treeline with moving figures... um, _lots_ of figures beyond. Whatever. The more the merrier, right? Huey stumbled out of the woods, climbed over a snow bank, and his feet hit a road he was not expecting to feel under his boots. He looked down dumbly at a cobblestone road, then up at his dubious rescuers. He couldn't believe his eyes. A convoy of men and women, with horse-drawn carriages, all dressed in Roman-esque armor. Silver steel, brown leather, with red decorations. They were all armed with swords and axes, great and small, and bows as well. In the carts, bound and dismal, more men and women donning dark blue leather armors... were these... it couldn't be...

"Halt! In the name of the Empire!" a voice called. From the ranks of soldiers came a CO, his armor grander and thicker than the rest, with a prominent helmet to boot. Huey couldn't believe this.

"State your name and business, and where you are from," he demanded, drawing his sword for emphasis. Several other surrounding soldiers drew their weapons. Some bowmen nocked arrows and aimed at Huey. He was silent for a moment, trying to digest this. Suddenly, he blurted out, "Is this a fucking joke?!" A laugh escaped him, and some of the soldiers glanced between each other. This had to be joke, this was... what...

He saw the Khajiit then. And this wasn't some furry LARPer in a mascot suit... this thing... was _real_. It had an expression (one of confusion, like the rest of the people), but living eyes. They stared into his eyes, and he felt the same way he could look into another person's eyes. That he had their attention, and he could communicate with them. It was a real, bonafide Khajiit... and not the lump-faced ones from _Oblivion._ _**Oblivion**_... a fucking video game. But... this meant.

"I'm in fucking Skyrim..." he muttered, staring around in awe. The impatient captain grunted, hearing the word 'Skyrim' and deciding that was enough of an answer.

"Then tell me, Nord," he said to him, "Your name and business. And they better be good answers." It was slowly dawning on Huey. Here he was, in front of medieval soldiers, carrying a flare gun and dressed in blazing oranges combined with snow-themed camouflage. He must look like a complete jackwagon to these people. But his mouth was quicker than his mind.

"I'm... Hogarth Hughes, and I'm hunting." Several of the soldiers burst out laughing. Even some of the prisoners... the Stormcloaks (unbelievable) looked bemused.

"Hunting?" the CO repeated. "You look like a court jester for the Forsworn." This elicited a few more chuckles from the legionnaires.

"More likely a spy, sir," one of the soldiers spoke up. The captain nodded.

"Most likely," he agreed.

"Honestly? Me, a spy? Do I look like a spy to you?" Huey shot back incredulously.

"I don't care, _honestly_ ," the captain said dismissively, sheathing his sword and turning away. "Drop whatever weapons you have on your person, Nord. Surrender peaceably, make this easy for all of us." Huey's first instinct was to bolt, maybe fire a flare on the back of this guy's head. But either way, the legionnaires would beat him before he could even climb over the snow bank, or try to load another flare into the gun. Huey noticed familiar faces among the prisoners, then. Along with the Khajiit, was a gagged Stormcloak. The Stormcloak of all Stormcloaks: Ulfric. Racist douche extraordinaire, but Huey could see this could be his ticket to freedom. All he had to do, as insane to him as it sounded: was follow the annoying tutorial that took too long.

Reluctantly, Huey slowly let his weapons down, save for his boot knife. Why would a Canadian hunter need a boot knife? Because it's cool, that's why. Hopefully they wouldn't check him that well. They did pat him down, but halfheartedly. Before he knew it, his guns were with the captain, his hands were bound, and he was seated right between the horse thief, and the Khajiit... the Dragonborn.

* * *

The ride was quiet, which was unusual... well, at least for Huey. He guessed 'real' Skyrim didn't follow computer codes and xml scripts. He looked to Ralof, who was staring back at him warily. Huey glanced at Ulfric, who stared away out the back of the cart, the horse thief (what was his name again... er, something Nordy) stared at his own feet, and the Khajiit ran her hands over her head.

"So, Forsworn jester," Ralof spoke up suddenly, getting Huey's attention. "What were you _really_ doing in those woods?"

"Being lost," Huey answered with a wry smile. Ralof chuckled.

"We've all been there, friend. But you're not from Skyrim, are you?"

"Not really. Somewhere similar, though."

"And where's that?"

Huey was surprised at how quickly and smoothly he could lie: "Bruma, up in the Jerrals."

"Ah. As close to 'Skyrim-like' as you'll ever get in the Imperials' land, I suppose," Ralof said with some minor disdain. "And you," he said next to the Khajiit, getting her attention. "They caught you trying to cross the border, right?" She nodded.

"She's like me," the horse thief growled, "Didn't do anything wrong... well, not _really_ wrong. So, I stole a horse, how does that get me lumped in with a bunch of rebels?! I should just be thrown into a cell for a few months, not sent to Helgen like you!"

"Well, let this be your first real taste of how much the Empire is concerned with your plight, horse thief," Ralof returned sardonically.

"They're going to kill me, aren't they?" the thief said in despair, ringing his hands till his knuckles turned bone white. "They're going to kill all of us!" he cried.

"Keep it down back there!" the cart's driver snapped.

There was a brief silence before Ralof spoke again, "At least have some dignity before you die, thief. Make peace with your gods, whoever they may be."

"I don't deserve this," the thief whispered. Huey decided to test his totally legit psychic powers.

"Listen, fella," he said to the thief, who looked up at him, "You seem like the running type. My advice when we get to Helgen: _don't run_. They'll just shoot you down."

"I'd rather die on my own terms, making a break for freedom," the thief grunted.

"Dude, just listen for a damned minute, I've got a plan."

"And that is?" the thief demanded, not looking convinced.

Huey smirked, and the thief saw the cocksuredness in his expression: "Don't follow the script." Huey leaned back and folded his hands over the back of his head. All of his fellow passengers stared at him, confounded.

* * *

Somehow Huey's super special awesome sexy psychic powers worked, because he, the horse thief Lokir of Rorikstead, the Dragonborn, and Ralof stood together as one impatient Nord asked to be brought to Sovngarde by the headsman.

"Let's get this over with, I haven't got all day!" he demanded, interrupting a priestess's final rites and walking straight to the chopping block.

"Hey, pal!" Huey called. Everyone hesitated and looked at him. Huey waited a moment before saying, "See you in Asgard."

"What?"

"Sovngarde."

The Nords gave him funny looks, even the one who was about to get his head cut off as he knelt on the block.

 _Probably best I not overextend my 'abilities.' Also, he asked for it._

With a swift motion, the man's head was off, and several people cursed Imperials and Stormcloaks alike.

"As brave in death as he was in life," Ralof said somberly, lowering his head.

"Why did I listen to you?" Lokir hissed at Huey, seething and red in the face.

"Because you're good at trusting other people's intuition, bro," Huey answered. Lokir spat at his feet. "Charming."

"You, the one with the ridiculous jacket!" the obnoxious female captain cawed at Huey. "To the block!" Despite his assured safety, a knot formed in Huey's stomach nevertheless. Somehow the sound of the World Eater's roar in the distance didn't make him feel any better. Weird, right?

"What was that?" a Stormcloak muttered.

"It's nothing, we carry on," the captain ordered. An imperial soldier took Huey's arm.

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."

"What's your brilliant plan now, _Hogarth Hughes,_ the great Forsworn jester," Lokir snapped. As he was being led forward, Huey called back, "I'm not saying I have a plan... but I have a plan."

"Some plan, being a lamb for slaughter," the captain jeered, but watched him closely nevertheless.

"Tell me something, captain," Huey said as he was knelt at the block. "Do you piss pearls? What with all that sand in your vagina." A roar of laughter exploded from the Stormcloaks. The captain turned beet red, and bellowed, "SILENCE!" That just made the Stormcloaks laugh harder. What really quieted them was a second roar in the distance... but closer this time.

"There it is again!" a voice exclaimed.

"Enough!" the captain snarled. "Headsman! _Now!_ " The executioner raised his axe, and Huey watched with (an admittedly forced) manic grin as he saw Alduin at last glide over the mountains and make his way to the tower overhead.

"What in Oblivion is that!?" Tulllius cried.

"A _Dissection_ song," Huey said, before jumping to his feet and kicking the headsman in the crotch. The executioner dropped his axe and fell to his knees just as the dragon landed upon the tower. Huey couldn't help but stare. This was a dragon. A real fucking dragon! He used to only _dream_ of something like this happening to-

Alduin opened his maw and let out a deafening shout, breaking Huey's reverie. The sky unfurled with clouds of fire and stone, and they rained down upon Helgen. Screams filled the air, and blasts rocked the town. One rock pummeled the ground next to Huey, stunning him. He stumbled back, ears ringing as he tried to keep his bearings and maintain his balance with his bound hands. A distant voice called behind him, and sharp nails dug into his arm. The Dragonborn, making him face her, yelled for him to follow. He did as instructed, his senses returning. He saw it was Hadvar leading he, along with the Dragonborn and Lokir, into a keep. Huey ducked instinctively as Alduin soared overhead, bellowing voice and flame on the town. Archers and magi launched spell and arrow at the winged beast, either missing, or their arms having no effect on the half-godly creature.

Huey followed his little company into the keep, where others were hiding. Stormcloaks and Imperials, each too stupefied by what was happening to remember their hatred for each other.

"We've got to get out of here!" Lokir cried, looking like he was about to shit himself. "Where do we go!?"

"Helgen Tower," Hadvar said. "There are underground passages that lead out of town. We can use them to escape."

"Well what are we waiting for!" a Stormcloak cried. "Let's go! There's a hole in the roof we can escape from." The Stormcloak began to ascend the stairs, but as soon as he came to the second floor landing, the stone wall exploded inward, knocking the Stormcloak and several other cowering people to the floor. Alduin poked his head in and belched fire on his victims.

"By the gods!" Lokir and Hadvar shouted at once. The Dragonborn uttered her own oath in the Khajiiti tongue, and Huey figured he should be shocked like the rest of them now. He had already been testing his all-knowingness suspiciously enough, it was time he tried to blend in. They seemed to be ignoring him, however. When the dragon's head disappeared and the company felt him dismount the tower, Hadvar ordered them to follow him. They came to the top floor, and sure enough the hole was there. They each took turns leaping down into the burning building adjacent to the tower, making their way to the ground again. There, a child cried by his crushed father's side while Ralof tried to coax the child to leave him.

"By the gods..." Hadvar muttered again.

"This is never going to end," Lokir hissed, tugging at his binds futilely. Ralof took the child's arm, who reluctantly followed away from his father's side. Ralof saw Hadvar and glared.

"I bet you're half-glad this is happening, Ralof," Hadvar growled at him.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," the Stormcloak returned. "I'm escaping, Hadvar. We _all_ are. I suggest you do the same."

"We'll end this later, Ralof. Mark my words," Hadvar promised. Ralof gave him one more scornful stare before fleeing with the boy to safety. When they were gone, Hadvar turned to the others.

"Come on, we're almost there." The company wound through the streets of Helgen, trying to avoid the dragon, but he seemed to be around every corner; almost like he was following them. Eventually they came to the keep, Huey watching as Alduin swooped down, took an Imperial in his claws, and flew for the sky once more only to drop the soldier to his death. Huey swallowed the lump in his throat and went into the keep with his new companions. When he was in, Hadvar shoved the door shut behind them and released a breath of relief. They were all quiet for a moment, collecting themselves before Hadvar spoke again.

"We're safe for now... maybe. It's likely the other Stormcloaks had the same idea we had and are down further somewhere. We should arm ourselves."

"And that damned dragon could bring the roof down on our heads, too," Lokir said. "We need to hurry."

"I have to admit I agree with you," Hadvar said back. He drew a dagger from his hip. "Let me take care of your bonds. Then take some spare armor and weapons from the racks. You'll need them... especially you, Hogarth. The Greybeards could probably see you from the Throat of the World." Secretly finding the quip funny, Huey approached a rack with a set of different armor types. The fur armor looked easiest and most comfortable, so he chose that. They'd be sitting in this room for years if he tried any other armor, even if he hesitated to watch someone else put on armor and go off that. Lokir, just as inexperienced with armor as Huey, chose fur as well. The Dragonborn decided on leather armor. She seemed a bit more skilled at armoring than them, which was unsurprising, to both Lokir and Huey alike. Tamriel's a rough world for a Khajiit.

"Horse thief," Hadvar said, "I probably know the answer to this already, but can you handle a sword enough to defend yourself?" Lokir looked nervous.

"I suppose, if I really have to... but a shield would probably help better... I'll probably use that a lot more than a sword."

"I can imagine. What about you, Khajiit?"

"I have basic training in melee and ranged combat," she said back. "Also, Bastet is my name."

"Right. And you, Hogarth?" Hadvar asked.

"Never used a sword in my life," he said back. This was something he couldn't lie about, even though he wanted to. Huey could tell immediately by Hadvar's look it struck him as odd.

"Strange, for a hunter," he remarked. "Need something when your bow fails, right?"

"I had a knife," Huey answered.

"Against a bear?" Hadvar pressed.

"Oh, I just wrestle them in nothing but my khaki shorts and hat," Huey returned with a smirk. To his relief he got a chuckle out of Hadvar, and even a smile from Bastet. Lokir seemed to be ignoring them, mentally preparing himself for what was to come _._

"Fine then, huntsman. We should get a move on, we've lollygagged here for too long. Come." Hadvar lead them through a passageway, Huey and Bastet behind the legionnaire and Lokir at the rear, clutching a shield for dear life. As they walked, Bastet said to Huey,

"Only a knife... and no bow. Nothing but what _appeared_ to be weapons, strange weapons no hunter here uses. You're no hunter I've ever seen, and I've met plenty during my travels from Elsweyr."

 _At least she doesn't refer to herself in the third person._

"Built 'em myself. When I'm not hunting I'm tinkering. Wish to the Nine I had them back, though."

"I imagine so." Bastet was silent after their brief exchange, and Huey was glad. He figured he'd have to spill his guts or come up with a good lie someday soon, but for now he was focused on surviving. And he doubted joining the Dragonborn on her quest would raise his survival rates. He might have to settle down in Riverwood, when they came to it, and think of a way to get back home. Ask mages or something... actually, maybe he _should_ follow Bastet. To the Greybeards. They might have a better idea of how he got here than anyone else. Maybe even Paarthurnax. Ah who was he kidding, he wanted to see everything in real-time Skyrim. This is fucking amazing!

Reality decided to bite again, however, when an arrow whizzed by his head. No way, adventuring in Skyrim? He could get killed, and there was no quick-load button. Or turning down the difficulty to novice. Wouldn't that be a fucking treat? Plus this was vanilla Skyrim anyway, boriiing!

Huey and his companions dropped to the ground and got behind cover.

"Imperial pigs, just ahead!" they heard a voice call from down a flight of stairs, from the keep's dungeon.

"Dammit, does anyone know destruction magic?" Hadvar asked. The looks he received were answer enough. "Then lend me your shield, Lokir."

"What?" he squeaked, drawing it closer to his person.

"For the gods' sakes, I'll give it back to you!" Hadvar snarled before prying it from the cowardly man's hands. He stepped into the stairwell, shield raised, and blocked an arrow. As the archer below tried to nock another arrow Hadvar tossed the shield at him, hitting the Stormcloak in the head. With a bellow, Hadvar charged down the stairs, sword raised. The Stormcloak fumbled to grab a dagger, but Hadvar bared down on him and cut him down the side of the neck, severing an artery. The Stormcloak crumpled to the ground and Hadvar dove behind a knocked-over table as a ball of fire was launched his way. Bastet came down next, snatched up the shield, and blocked another firebolt with it. Hadvar took the opportunity to leap over the table and cut down the mage who had been attacking them. Lokir and Huey followed them down into a small dungeon; complete with cages and torture instruments. Lokir gratefully took his shield back from Bastet when she handed it to him. Huey bent over the corpse of the archer and relieved him of his bow and arrows.

"I bet that's more your style, eh, hunter?" Hadvar said with a smirk. Huey was more used to compound bows himself, but this was close enough. He tested the string. Harder to pull back than a compound, but he'd get used to it. Huey strapped the quiver over his shoulder and followed his companions further into the underground corridors. They came to a wide-open chamber, crawling with Stormcloaks.

"Stop that Imperial!" one shouted upon seeing them. Huey didn't hesitate to nock an arrow and fire it at the woman who had called them out. The missile pierced her light armor, straight to the heart. She fell with a strained grunt, and her comrades reacted as expected: furiously.

"Snoipin's a good job, mate," Huey muttered, readying another arrow. Side-by-side, Bastet and Hadvar engaged several swordsmen that came at them. Lokir cowered behind Huey, muttering something or other to a multitude of aedric deities, including Talos. Huey's heart practically stopped when he caught sight of a hammer-wielding barbarian skirting by Hadvar and Bastet to flank him. He wouldn't have enough time to shoot him, so instead he wrenched Lokir's shield for himself and ripped a scavenged shortsword from his hip. The Stormcloak bellowed and raised his hammer when he was within five feet of Huey. Huey did the only thing he could think of and charged back, but with his shield held firm in front of him. The Stormcloak was caught off guard by the attack and took the targe charge right to the stomach. He lost grip of his heavy iron hammer in the process of being forced flat on his back, and Huey didn't hesitate to stomp on his neck. Bone cracked beneath his boot and the man died soundlessly. Huey's stomach lurched, but he did his best to keep his nerves, stifling the revelation that he had just killed two human beings.

He looked up at Bastet and Hadvar. They had dispatched several swordsmen, causing the remaining two to retreat. Huey tossed Lokir's shield back to the man, causing him to clumsily try and catch it and fail. Huey sheathed his unused sword and snatched his discarded bow back up. The two remaining Stormcloaks disappeared down a tunnel before he could even grab another arrow.

"Piss," he muttered. Oh well. Maybe the bear and spiders up ahead would take care of them. Said beasties would also be softened up in the process for easier killage. Bastet and Hadvar turned to Lokir and Huey.

"Nice work, Hogarth," Hadvar complimented. "Got more stones than I expected. Lokir... you holding up?"

"Mmm..."

"Keep it up, then, I guess," Hadvar said back and sighed. "Guess we're following those two lucky ones."

"They won't be lucky for long if they try to ambush us," Bastet growled, flexing her arms as she stared fixedly at the passage before them.

"Aye, so they won't," Hadvar agreed, smiling admiringly at Bastet. He turned back to Huey and Lokir. "Shall we?" The companions made their way into the passage, discovering it lead to a natural cave system. They then heard screams from up ahead. The Stormcloaks.

"I bet they ran into frostbite spiders," Hadvar said. Lokir shuddered beside Huey, and Bastet grimaced in disgust. "Either way, get ready for a fight. The damn bugs are all riled up now." They went ahead and came to a cavern filled indeed with the venom-spitting creepy crawlies. The larger ones were in the process of webbing the Stormcloaks while the smaller ones did their nasty little frontal leg dances around them like a tribe of savages. Huey nocked an arrow and fired between all eight eyes of a spider. It hissed angrily, dropping its prize and spitting at Huey. He ducked just in time as the wad of sick flew over his head. Shield raised, Hadvar bellowed and charged, Bastet at his side. Arrows were useless Huey supposed, so he drew his sword and followed. Not intending to bite off more than he could chew, Huey took to some of the smaller ones. The universe, however, didn't find it appropriate to reward his smarts, and thus it sent one of the large ones to leap over stunned Hadvar and Bastet, right in front of Huey.

"Oh fuck this noise, man!" Huey exclaimed, diving under the spider and rolling to where Bastet and Hadvar stood. When Huey was on his feet alongside them, Lokir cried out as the spider decided to let Huey by. "Oh come on!" Huey shouted. A strange sense of nobility clouded Huey's cognitive functions and he leaped onto the spider's back to save the silly horse thief.

 _Don't worry, Lokir, you're not gonna get "steeped on by stiders" on this day!_ Huey thought absurdly as the beast thrashed angrily below him. Thank God (or Talos, Kynareth, Dibella, whoever) Bastet and Hadvar were there to hack on the thing's legs. The spider stumbled, and Huey took the opportunity to plunge his sword into its back. He must have hit something vital, because it crumpled to the ground, what remained of its legs twisting up. Huey lost his grip and fell to the side with an 'oof!' Lokir babbled to the gods incoherently in the background as Huey found himself laughing.

"Oh wow..." he chuckled, wiping away a tear. "What's next on the list? A bear. Yeah." He found Bastet offering her hand to him, and he accepted.

When she pulled him up, she said with a smirk, "Nice job. You should start a spider ranch, domesticate them, and breed them for knights."

"Ugh," Hadvar grunted. "Don't speak such nonsense."

"Why not?" Huey said. "I could make a fortune." Hadvar made another noise and turned away. Huey turned back to Lokir to see the Nord, paler than usual, inching by the dead bug while still muttering to the Nine.

"Hope you're wrong about that bear," Bastet said to Huey, offering him his discarded bow.

 _I'm not._ But he said instead, "I hope so, too," and took the bow. The company moved on through more tunnels until they came to a second cavern where the massive grizzly slumbered.

"You had to open your mouth," Lokir hissed at Huey.

"It'd be nice if you _closed_ yours," Hadvar spat back, silencing the moody thief.

"She's sleeping, still. We can sneak by," Bastet said. She turned to the others with a playful smile. "Any of you and your clodhoppers capable of doing that?"

"We don't need to be cats to sneak by a bear," Hadvar chuckled back, leading the way again slowly. To Huey's surprise, they made it by the bear with no incidents. The grizzly enjoyed her nap, and the company's giblets weren't nibbled. At last they made it to the outside world, relishing the sun and the fresh air. The bellow of Alduin spoiled their moment briefly, prompting them to hide beneath a pine as the black behemoth soared overhead, announcing his presence to everything below, letting everything and everyone know they were below him. When he was safely out of sight, the company stood from their hiding spot.

"No one's going to believe this," Hadvar breathed.

"They'll have to," Bastet said. "The news will spread through all of Skyrim in no time. It'll take the rest of Tamriel by storm with that being said."

"Tamriel's going to be in an uproar, no doubt," Hadvar agreed.

"Okay... well," Lokir said to them, stepping ahead. "Thank you... I suppose. I ought to be going now."

"Good luck in Hammerfell," Bastet said to him.

"Oh... um, thanks," he mumbled. He gave an awkward wave and made his way down the road, disappearing around a bend. When he was gone, Hadvar sighed.

"So, what about you two," he said to Bastet and Huey. "If you need shelter for the night you can come with me to Riverwood. My uncle lives there, he'll be more than willing to let us stay."

"Yes, thank you, I have nowhere to go," Bastet answered.

"Me too," Huey said. "Thank you," he added.

"No trouble. You both saved my life, shelter is the least I can offer in return. Follow me, Riverwood's not far."

They set off, walking side-by-side down the cobblestone road. "Oh, and, if I were you, I'd lay low in the presence of the Imperials," Hadvar told them. " _I_ know better, but as far as the rest of the legion is concerned, you're fugitives."

"I doubt they even remember us," Huey said. "Not being 'on the list' and all. They're probably more sore about Ulfric escaping." Hadvar cursed at the mention of his name.

"As we should be," he spat. "But you're probably right. I bet only the captain would recognize you two."

"Captain Pearly Gates, yeah, fuck her," Huey grunted, unable to help himself. Hadvar snorted, and Bastet snickered.

"I'm surprised she didn't cut your head off herself," Hadvar said. "She probably _would_ have if General Tullius hadn't been there. I mean it."

"Well, thank God for small miracles," Huey replied.

"Which god?" Hadvar asked. Huey was taken aback, then remembered the Nine.

"Oh, um, Talos," he said back hastily, then remembered Talos was a no-no for the Empire, and glanced at Hadvar to guage his reaction. Hadvar noticed and smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, as far as I'm concerned, Talos is the Ninth of the Nine. To Oblivion with the Thalmor. The only reason I'm a legionnaire is to make sure Skyrim stays stable during these hard times."

"Yeah, I hear ya," Huey said.

After a moment of silence, Hadvar asked Bastet, "So, what brings you to Skyrim? I'm guessing it wasn't with the trade caravans, you don't strike me as a trader."

"That's my story for those that are less perceptive," she said to him with a crafty smirk. "But, in reality, I'm your standard adventurer. But to most Nords, I might as well say I'll pick their pockets when they're not looking. If I had to say so during my time in Cyrodiil, I definitely have to here... no offense." Hadvar shook his head.

"None taken."

They were silent for a while, leaving Huey to think to himself. In other words, to try and figure out what the fuck he was going to do next. Staying in Riverwood seemed the best option, maybe be a hunter. He had the know-how, and he had a bow. He had some skill with a compound bow and could refine his 'normal' bow skills with time. That seemed the best option. If anything, he could get a job at the tavern or something, as a cook maybe. Finally those years at "Eat" would pay off.

But, despite the danger of adventuring in real Skyrim being... real, he found the idea of being a softy in Riverwood to be very unappealing. Plus it would never get him any closer to figuring out what really happened, how he got here. The sabercat showed up, back on _Earth—_ weird as fuck to let that particular set of words run through his mind—then that freak storm. And suddenly, Skyrim. Worthy successor to _Oblivion_ , a landmark achievement for Bethesda Softworks since Fallout 3, Game Of The Year on multiple fronts, winner of the Angry Joe Bad-Ass Seal of Approval—da woiks. Only this place had teeth, and it could bite any time it wanted.

So yeah, Huey was more likely to find out what happened if he asked the right people. And while this might be 'organic' Skyrim, not following any scripts or programming, he still had an idea of where all the 'right people' are. Which meant sticking with the Dragonborn. Because what else would a fanboy do?

"We're getting close." Hadvar's voice roused Huey from his musing. Indeed they were, he recognized the area close to the gateway to Riverwood. He could hear voices hollering, hammers clanging, and lumber blades sawing. A few more moments and they were stepping into the center of the village. Huey hid a smile when the old woman proclaimed of seeing a dragon, and no one believed her. He found a strange comfort in that _some_ things might fall into place as expected. He just had to be sure that _he_ didn't do anything to fuck it up. Cosmic butterflies and that ilk. He started to regret saving Lokir... or maybe he was just being paranoid.

"My uncle's home is just ahead," Hadvar told them. "Ah, there he is!" Ahead was a burly Nord (well that just described every Nord ever), face smeared with soot, along with his dark blonde hair. Uncle Alvor was carrying an iron chest-piece when Hadvar called to him.

Surprise on his face, he turned and cried, "Hadvar?! What are you doing here?"

"You won't believe it," Hadvar replied grimly as Alvor set the armor down on the porch.

"You look like you've been through Oblivion, boy," Alvor exclaimed. "It must be quite a story indeed." He looked to Bastet and Huey, curiosity and a little suspicion on his face. "And who are your companions?"

"I should explain inside, I don't want anyone overhearing," Hadvar answered lowly. Alvor nodded.

"Alright, then. Come with me, you can help yourself to some food and drink."

Hadvar followed his uncle, Bastet behind, and Huey trailing behind. He gazed at the town around him. He would have hoped the feeling of surrealism would have passed by now, what with dragon attacks and people getting killed around him. But he felt like he was almost in a dream... lucid dreaming. He knew he wasn't, but it seemed his subconscious wasn't ready to cooperate with the not-stupid part of his brain.

"Coming, son?" Alvor's voice said behind him. Huey turned and put on his poker face.

"Yeah, just... recovering," he replied, stepping to the door. Alvor gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Bowl of stew will do you good, son. A stiff drink, too." Huey returned an honest—and relieved—smile.

"I heard dat."

Huey disappeared into the house and the door closed behind him, tinking softly as the lock was secured.


	2. 2: Hard Topics

Chapter II

Hard Topics

Huey had never been so relieved to take a seat in his life. Before him sat a plate of bread and cheese to hold him over until the stew was ready. Behind, a roaring fire boiled the stew, filling the air with its aroma. Across from him Alvor and Hadvar took seats, Bastet finding one next to him. Hadvar's niece approached, eyes wide as she stared at the strangers.

"Wow! I never thought I'd ever meet a cat!"

"Dorthe!" Sigrid hissed at the girl, quickly casting an apologetic look at Bastet. "I'm sorry, she hears what... _certain people..._ " her look transformed to that of scorn as she laid her eyes on a shifting Alvor before she looked back at Bastet, "...blurt out."

"It's all right, I won't hold a grudge," Bastet replied.

"Oh, um, sorry, I didn't know that was mean," Dorthe amended.

"Nothing to worry of, cub," Bastet returned reassuringly. Alvor cleared his throat, prompting the three's attention.

"I'm sorry to cut to the chase, but I need to know what happened," he said.

"Right," Hadvar sighed, folding his hands on the table. "No need to beat around the bush. In Helgen, we were attacked by a dragon." Alvor reeled somewhat, Dorthe's eyes bulged again, and Sigrid spun around, dropping the stirring spoon on the floor.

"Aha, I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. Did you say a _dragon_ attacked you?" Alvor said back incredulously.

"That's what happened, Uncle. I wouldn't make this up," Hadvar returned.

"I... I believe you, son, it's just..." he trailed off.

"I know the feeling," Huey murmured, taking a bite of some cheese and bread. He hid a smile. Looking at the giant cheese wheels in the game had always made him hungry for cheese, even after a meal. Now he was having the real thing! It was like meeting Mickey Mouse at Disneyland.

"How big was the dragon?!" Dorthe demanded.

"As big as a house," Hadvar answered. "Destroyed a lot of houses, too."

"Wow!" she exclaimed.

"There's nothing to 'wow' about, girl," Alvor replied gruffly. "This dragon could endanger the whole village!"

"Then we need the Jarl's help," Sigrid said. "If there's a dragon on the loose, he'll send some soldiers to better guard the village."

"Yes, someone should go there," Alvor agreed.

Bastet spoke up, "I can give him the message. I probably shouldn't stay here, anyway."

"You would do that?" Alvor said. "You have my gratitude, but you shouldn't leave now. At least sup with us and stay the night. It sounds like you two helped Hadvar, and I'd like to repay you for that."

"Yes, please, stay," Hadvar agreed. "It would get dark before you arrived at Whiterun, anyway, and it isn't safe to travel at night. Especially now that there's a dragon lurking out there somewhere."

"You won't get an argument from me," Huey replied.

"Thank you," Bastet said gratefully. It wasn't until now she realized how tired she was. Staying the night here was a good idea. She looked at Huey then.

"So you're coming to Whiterun with me?" He nodded.

"As you can probably tell, I'm not from around here. So I'll need a place to live," he said to her, but really he was planning to stay with her... until he met the Greybeards maybe. He hoped they would know something about how he got here. With that thought crossing his mind, he knew he would eventually have to tell Bastet how... 'familiar' this all was to him. But for now? Play it cool.

"From Cyrodiil, eh?" Alvor said. "What brought you to Skyrim?"

 _Is every Imperial gonna think I'm a Nord, and every Nord gonna think I'm an Imperial?_ Huey thought, but answered, "Hunting. Everything's bigger and tougher up here than down south. Including fliers, apparently," he joked weakly. Dorthe laughed, but the rest only smiled half-heartedly. Huey had a feeling Bastet was reading him like a book. He could feel her watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"What about you, Bastet?" Hadvar asked.

"My two sisters are up here," she said. This surprised Huey. The Dragonborn having actual family. Although it shouldn't really. This was a real person he was sitting next to, not some silent mook that stared vacantly into space like in the stupid game. Bastet went on, "Oshana went and joined the Companions, so I'll be able to meet up with her in Whiterun."

"Heh. Well one thing is going right, for you at least," Hadvar remarked with a smile. Bastet chuckled softly.

"Yes, nice and convenient, that. Unfortunately for my other sister, Jasi, who has always traditionally a pain in the as..." she glanced at Dorthe briefly, "..rear, she's up with the mages in Winterhold."

"Ah I see, you've got a whole dynamic going," Huey said. "You're the quick one, Oshana's the tank, and Jasi's the spellslinger." Bastet laughed lightly.

"Close. _I_ actually prefer heavy armor and Oshana has always been light on her feet."

Sigrid approached with a pot of stew and placed it in the middle of the table, while Dorthe passed out bowls and spoons to everyone. When everyone was settled and began eating their meals, Alvor spoke up again.

"For your trip in the morning, we have plenty of supplies to offer, including arms and armor. You're doing a good service to the village, Bastet, so I'd like to give you a decent set of plate armor." Bastet was surprised at the gesture.

"No, no," she said, "You don't need to do that, I'm fine with what I have for now-"

"Nay, I insist," Alvor interjected, "If you want heavy armor, then you're going to get the damn finest set in all of Skyrim. In fact, if you would, come with me outside after supper. I can get your size and make some adjustments. You two, Hogarth." It was Hugh's turn to be surprised.

"Don't give me that look," Alvor chided, "you need something more than those fuzzy rags if you're traveling, especially with the dragons and the war. I think some scale would do you fine. Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't really seemed to be a seasoned warrior."

"Hey, like I said, I came here for the hunting. But I sure as hell got more than I bargained for, so thank you for this."

"What's a hell?" Dorthe asked.

"Oh uh... another word for Oblivion... in my town," Huey said hastily.

"Oh, that's weird," was her only remark as she returned to her meal. Everyone else did, but Huey couldn't shake the feeling of Bastet watching him again.

Later on Hugh and Bastet went outside with Alvor. He took out some measuring tape, got their dimensions, then made some adjustments for Bastet's plate mail and Huey's scale. They went around back into some changing stalls and tried on the armor. Huey had received some extra plain clothes from Alvor and wore them under the mail. It was damn heavy, he thought, even though it was technically 'light' armor. But it still felt _way_ more protective than that fur armor. Bastet clearly didn't have a problem with her plate, since she moved with it so well. He couldn't help but feel slightly emasculated that a cat lady was having no trouble with a set of armor that weighed about as much as she did.

Alvor took in the both of them.

"Looking well, my friends," said he, but noticed Huey's trouble. "You, Hogarth, must've never worn very good armor. Come here." Huey, perplexed, went up to Alvor who proceeded to explain a few ways Huey hadn't put on the armor just right. After a few explanations and some tweaking, the armor felt kind of good now. Still heavy to him, but he'd get used to that.

"Yeah, what can I say, this is all new to me," Hugh said to them. "Adventuring's a li'l different than hunting."

"In Skyrim, hunting _is_ adventuring," Alvor said with a laugh. "You never know when you'll run into a sabrecat or a troll. In fact, you both should have some better weapons."

"Oh Alvor," Bastet spoke up, "Please, this is enough."

"I won't hear it," he retorted stubbornly. "An iron sword and a short bow between the two of you? You won't get very far with that pig sticker and dart thrower. What you need is good steel and a compound bow." He led them back to his forge where he gave Bastet a brand new steel blade and Huey a nicely varnished and water-sealed bow, plus a quiver full of arrows. Then he threw Huey a new shortsword for good measure.

"There, that's better," Alvor said with finality.

"We can't thank you enough," Bastet said to him.

"It's the other way around, lass. You saved my nephew and you're going through all this trouble just to make sure a little old village is protected."

"Well, let's just call it even then," Huey said.

"Bah, fine. Damnable humble minds," Alvor huffed, but was clearly joking.

The gear issue settled, the three of them retired into the house as the sun sunk lower to the horizon. The family and guests conversed for a while as it got darker. Huey stayed quiet for the most part, trying his best to look like he was deep in thought, even though he sort of was. He needed a good alibi in case some serious questions about his past came up. Let's see. Saying he was from Bruma was a good start. It was in Cyrodiil, but was far up north enough to be considered 'Skyrim-like,' even to hardass Nords like Ralof. Imperials and Nords seemed to get mixed up about his 'race,' even though he was French and Irish on his mother's side, then Ukrainian and German on his father's. But he was really just some whiteboy Canadian nerd that played video games and ate pizza.

The hunting profession was his best bet, since he was serviceable with a bow. He didn't have to be _great_ hunter, and he wouldn't be, since it was a rifle he used most of the time. He thought back to his Remington, either accosted by the Thalmor or sitting under a pile of rubble in what was left of Helgen. He wondered if he should ever return there to retrieve it, but that would be later on down the road. For now, stick with Bastet. He was glad she had more family, actually. Ones who were apparently fighters like Bastet. He'd hate to have to rely on them, but considering his sheltered life back in good ol' Ontario, that was all he could do if he planned on not dying a horrible death to a dragon, or hypothermia, or being volunteered for the Giant Space Program.

An involuntary snort escaped him when that image crossed his mind. Thankfully the others were too enthralled by one of Hadvar's legionnaire stories to notice. All except for Bastet. Her eyes shifted briefly to Hugh, but then back to Hadvar. Typical she would be the one to be appraising Huey. He wondered if he should tell her sooner rather than later that he had ended up in the real version of a fictional universe. Probably a different version of the 'original' to be honest, considering the Dragonborn should be a Nord... cannonically speaking.

"Fucking multiverse, man," he muttered, not caring that Bastet's sharp cat ears definitely heard that. He knew how he could convince he wasn't just playing a joke on her, too. He had his smartphone with him, shoved deep into a pocket. And on it was a good ol' dot AVI of the _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ release trailer. They'd have to be alone, of course. After everyone was in bed. But for now...

Huey got up and left the room quietly. Hadvar had glanced at him briefly, but kept on with his story about how a detachment he had been assigned with had been chased into an old tomb and had to fight a slew of draugr.

Outside in the cool air, he looked to the west. The sun was down, but a streak of orange light hugged the horizon. Huey tried not to think about the fact that the sun wasn't actually a floating ball of burning hydrogen, but a hole into another dimension, making the planet he was on truly the center of the universe. When trying not to think about it failed, he decided to calm his oncoming existential crisis with a cigarette. He walked behind the house to the river where a couple of wooden chairs and a table with a lantern sat on the bank. He took a seat, used his lighter to set the lantern, then lit up his cigarette. He took a drag, the edge slightly coming off as the nicotine seeped into him and calmed his frayed nerves.

Swallowing, he looked at the sunset again. Fuck, it was so simple on Earth. The sun was hundreds of times larger than his own planet, but millions of miles off so it didn't burn the world away. It had its own center of gravity, so it was just a massive ball of fire that provided life-giving warmth and light to a planet that was only habitable by the sheer coincidence of being formed in that sweet spot between being a boiling mess like Venus, or a dried-out husk like Mars. And the stars were all suns too, just very far away. And some not technically burning, just their light finally reaching Earth after the suns themselves were long dead. Easy, simple, comprehensible.

But the thing that gave life to this finger-nail of a magical Earth rip-off was a hole into another dimension that a _very real_ divine being ripped through, because it was disgusted with this dimension. Fucking puffed up twat. The stars were basically the same thing. Wankers, the lot of 'em. Earth orbited the sun, which was tangible and wasn't a hole in the fabric of reality. Nirn just sort of... floated in the middle of a black bubble, surrounded by nasties that all wanted a peace of it. Suddenly radioactive solar flairs and ginormous meteors don't sound like such bad apocalypses when you've got psychopathic daedra wanting to perpetually torture the world instead of just oblooterating it. And now a god dragon wants to eat everyone, then eat everyone again in the after life, digest them, then shit out a new world. Hey, that's what Paarthurnax says. Maybe not in those words, but that's what it sounded like to Huey when he was arguing with that old grey lizard as his Nord character—Pootis—during his first playthrough of Skyrim.

Hugh practically jumped out of his skin when a figure stepped into view beside him.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to startle you," Bastet said.

"Nah, it's fine. Just thinking about how fucked everything is now." She huffed, but in an agreeable way as she sunk into the seat beside him.

"Smoke?" he asked, offering her his box of Camels. He'd have to see if this Skyrim had tobacco and paper to roll up. He usually used roll-up cigarettes back at home, but he had been in a hurry to get up into the cabin and just grabbed the pack he had now at a gas station.

Bastet considered the offer briefly, shrugged, then pulled a stick out from the box.

"...Camels?" she questioned, studying the box. Since Hugh was about to spill his guts to her—now seemed a good time as any—he figured it wouldn't do any harm for her to see another shred of evidence of his insanity he wasn't about to question. She could read the surgeon general warning for good measure. Bet Tamriel doesn't have a surgeon general.

"Don't really smoke brand tobacco, but I needed a fix," he answered. She looked like she was about to say that wasn't what she meant, but then decided not to. He knew by now that _she_ knew there was more to him than just being some dope that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she let him light her smoke (she definitely noticed the cyan plastic see-through lighter) and took a drag for herself. She coughed a little, but mostly kept it down. They were silent for a while, looking up at the stars. Aurora Borealis formed, indigo and streaming across the heavens. That image used to just make Huey stop and look up for minutes on end when playing the game, but here... Jesus Christ. One would think a Canadian would be used to seeing Aurora, but no. Never. Neither here nor the Great White North. But especially not here. There was something ethereal about it here. Probably because it _was_ ethereal.

He looked to Bastet. She was hypnotized as well. He couldn't know for sure, but it was probably the first time she had ever seen such a thing.

"First time?" he asked her. She looked at him, not knowing what he meant. He nodded up at the sky. Understanding came over her expression and she nodded back. They both looked up. "So... I know you've been keeping an eye on me."

"That I have."

"Questions?"

"Why don't you try to explain yourself without holding my hand about it."

"Okay, but be prepared for a world of bum fuckery." He took in a breath, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the Samsung Galaxy. She looked to him as he stared across the river into the darkish trees. Those massive moons Masser and Secunda threw off a lot more light than old Luna back in his sky, even though his home was closer to it than most folks'.

Finally, he began, "Okay... so... picture everything. Not just Tamriel, not just Nirn. Absolutely everything, the totality of existence. Then picture it being inside a bubble." She nodded. "So, there's one bubble. But then there are trillions up trillions of other bubbles, all floating next to each other. All different worlds, with different laws of physics, sizes, magical and non-magical." He looked to her, dead serious, and she looked ever so slightly disturbed that he was going where she thought he was going so earnestly. "I'm from a different one. And not only that, I'm from one where this bubble that we're in now: Mundus, Oblivion, Aetherius, Sithis... fiction. A story. A bunch of stores, that I'm familiar with. Because one of my favorite series of all time is the _Elder Scrolls_ series. It makes _Lord of the Rings_ look like an episode of the _Rugrats_."

A short silence, they stared at each other. Bastet swallowed, then said, "Next, please tell me the one about the Nord and Imperial walking into a bar together."

"Not joking."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"I know which cliché you're going to say next: 'I know you think you're telling the truth, but you're just insane.' Sort of wish I was, but I'm not. I've got proof. And it's not just the cigarettes and the lighter." He turned on his phone. He looked at the screen. He had studied it earlier when in the changing stall trying on his armor. He had noticed that the battery meter was at full charge and read like it was charging. Of course it had no bars, but the fact that thing was perpetually charging in—what he assumed—was magical air... well, it'd be useful to convert non-believers with the power of marketing.

He clicked on the Skyrim trailer then handed it to Bastet. She squinted at the screen, then her breath stopped when the images started flashing. Huey looked around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, but if there had been Bastet probably would have made them go away herself, considering her Khajiiti senses.

"'You should have acted... they're already here! The Elder Scrolls told of their return,'" the voice of the trailer said. Huey looked up at the sky, grinning. Instead of the original trailer, he was envisioning the TF2 parody of it, 'cp_Skyrim.'

"'But! There's one they fear. In their tongue he is known as Dovahkiin. Dragonborn!'"

Huey murmured to himself: "Poo-Tis- _Pow!_ " as the 'real' Dragonborn shouted, "FUS RO DAH!" He hoped he'd be hearing that a lot more in the future, if Bastet didn't decide here and now to stick his head into the river until he stopped moving.

After a few more moments, the trailer closed. Bastet dropped the phone to her lap and stared across the river, dumbfounded. Huey shifted uncomfortably, staring down at his cupped hands.

After what seemed like an hour, Bastet finally said, "You... this... we can't _not_ be real."

"Oh ho no!" Huey exclaimed, hopping out from his seat, alarming Bastet a little. He started pacing backing forth. "Oh no, this is real, alright. This is the realest fucking thing I've ever felt! The last time I felt this 'real,' I was t-boned by a drunk driver doing a hundred forty kilos. I broke my arm in three places and four ribs that night, had a concussion, and managed to crawl away out of my old Honda before it got swallowed by a fire. You know, after the guy who hit me ran away, apparently drunk but not drunk enough to not make a run for it.

"And today, I've been on a chopping block, been spit at by a dragon, I dry-humped a giant spider just to save some douchebag thief... and there's a whole shit show out there!" he flailed his arm wildly at the wilderness, "Just waiting for ol' totally-unprepared-for-this Huey Sylvester—that's my real name, by the way—to just take two steps outside of a settlement before I'm anally raped by a bear, then eaten by a troll, but not before being soul trapped by a necromancer, and then having to spend eternity in the most depressing fucking thing I've seen in all five Elder Scrolls games: the Soul Cairn." He swallowed, a lump in his throat the size of a hockey pock. His arms quivered as he slowly took a seat again, cold sweat on his brow.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered, clenching his fists in a poor effort to stop his hands from shaking. Bastet stared wide-eyed at him. She was torn between having her world rocked by this, but seeing that this poor man was in way over his head, and he didn't have a say in it.

"Okay," she said, breathing slowly. "This... is a lot. I want to help you... but even a Khajiit like me knows that dragons returning is a sign of the End Times. You... you know how this all goes, don't you?"

Huey laughed humorlessly. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she hissed, her ears sinking back and fangs showing.

"There's more than just Alduin and the dragons going on. I... I know who the Dragonborn is..." he forced himself to look at her. She became still, stunned.

"No, that's not right," she whispered. "The Dragonborn would be a Nord, like Talos. Not a Khajiit wanderer like me."

"When I was in that cart earlier today, with you, Ralof, Lokir and Ulfric... you were sitting where the Dragonborn was supposed to be sitting. You know how the Divines choose their champions..." she shook her head in disbelief, climbing to her feet, crossing her arms, "they pick the unlikely. Prisoners, mostly. Sort of a fetish for Bethesda... I mean the gods. The Neravarine had been a prisoner, the Hero of Kvatch was before he was released by Uriel Septim... and you were." She looked to him, eyes wide.

"You're... sure?"

"Positive. But this doesn't mean I'm some sort of... soothsayer, like I'll know everything. The Skyrim I know... _knew_ , was just a shadow compared to this place. Not even. I may know something out there, but it's just as likely something else is going on. We can't walk into Jorrvaskr and see a brawl taking place between two specific characters just as we arrive, then travel to the College of Winterhold and see one of the professors arguing with that Thalmor asshole. This shit isn't scripted and waiting to trigger when we arrive for the first time at a location, everything's going on at once. So I can't say something and make it true... just like in my world, I can only assume."

"Then that means I might _not_ be Dragonborn," she argued.

"Maybe," he conceded. "But I doubt it. I arrived at that specific time, and you were in that specific place... and here we are in Riverwood, ready to head to Whiterun tomorrow and tell the Jarl that the village is in danger." Silence fell. Bastet fidgeted, then sat down again. She rubbed her muzzle, then Huey remembered his cigarette sitting on the table and smoked. Bastet scoffed and did the same. They had almost burned away during the exchange, so there was little left. After they were done, the butts were tossed into the river and they looked to each other again.

"But the Dragonborn in that... moving picture thing you showed me..." she then remembered the phone, she had been clutching it the whole time, and passed it back to Huey. "He was a _Nord_."

"Here's the thing. The moving pictures... we call them films... movies. Cinema. Videos, mostly. Then we invented video _games_. Moving pictures we could interact with. Where I'm from, the Elder Scrolls is a video game series, a pretty old one, too. I was just a little kid when I first played _Arena_. Heh, I actually had to get an older cousin to beat the first dungeon for me. Even today that shit is almost impossible... anyway, the idea of the game is that you can create your own character, instead of taking on the role of an established one. So, when I started up Skyrim, I wasn't in the role of... Conan the Nordbarian. I could make him or her an Altmer, or an Argonian, and so on. Remember all those bubbles I mentioned?" She nodded. "There's probably millions of them where the Dragonborn is a different person each time." She laughed humorlessly, shaking her head. He had to laugh too.

"Yeah, it's insane, but there's even a term for it in my word: the Multiverse Theory."

"The Multiverse Theory," she repeated, sighing and looking down at her feet.

"Yeah... that. My point is, there's endless possibilities. I just happen to find myself in this one." She looked up at him then

"Speaking of which," said she, " _How_ did you end up here? Tell me everything, spare no details." He nodded and thought.

"Well... I was up norther, at my family's hunting cabin. I was alone, again. My dad stopped coming after my uncle died, we'd all go together before that. Anyway, I was out in the woods. We had built several tree-perches, where we would sit and wait for game to pass by. Stupidly, I thought the oldest and most rickety one was just strong enough to hold me. Needless to say, after about an hour or so of waiting, then thing collapsed. I fell in the snow... got up..." he shivered. "Then I heard it." Bastet leaned forward, watching and listening intently.

"I turned around and there was a god damned sabretooth tiger. Now you gotta understand, magic, elves, beastfolk... all that... doesn't exist in my world. It's just humans surrounded by animals. And we used to have sabretooths, but they went extinct literally ages ago. So seeing one in goddamned Ontario, alive and well... well, that and the fact that it was about to eat me. I raised my gun and got a lucky shot in the eye. When I tried to make a run for it... shit really started to go down."

"How?" she demanded, watching him with eyes ablaze. It spooked him a little, but he pressed on.

"It was completely fucking still all day, not a single breath of air. Suddenly, out of completely nowhere, this gale just knocks me on my face... then it blows _down_. Like, completely vertically, unnatural. I can't get up, it's like I've got a weight on me. I go blind for a few moments as all this noise almost makes me go deaf. Then it recedes, I push myself up... that's where I showed up. Just off the road from the caravan. You and the Imperials saw the flare I shot up. I heard voices, came running... and that's that." He spread his arms then dropped them. Bastet digested this, the gears in her head grinding. After a while she shook her head.

"I've never heard such a thing. That wasn't some... portal you fell through, but it _really_ sounds like you were brought her by intention. Something like that doesn't just happen... even here, much less your non-magical world." Huey shivered.

"Fuck... something or someone dragged me here... I guess I always had an idea, but I didn't want to face it. Then again, that means I could still get to the bottom of this... get home." Bastet nodded, then smiled ruefully.

"So that's why you want to follow me like a lost puppy... you _are_ one."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved his hand at her, looking away, trying to hide his face going red.

"But more than just that. You think I can lead you to someone who can help you."

"On the nose," he replied. "Don't be offended or anything, I like you so far." She laughed.

"I'll try not to be. But for what it's worth, you seem like a decent man. And from whatever sheltered life you came from, you throwing yourself in for Lokir was fairly brave. I can only assume your world doesn't have spiders."

"Not ones that big, no. The biggest spider on Earth is only roughly the size of my hand. Nah, the scariest things on Earth are Americans." He chuckled at his own joke while Bastet just smiled awkwardly. But she seemed to know that the joke was to benefit him more than her. They went silent once again, for longer this time. Digesting everything. Hugh lit up his second cigarette, then gave Bastet another. She reached under her chair after taking a drag and placed a bottle of wine on the table.

"Figured we could share it, since we both need it," she said, sliding the bottle to him. He smiled.

"I've always been a beer guy, but I have a bit of my grandma in me too, so I can drink some wine," he said. He took a healthy swig then passed it to Bastet.

After she drank some, she said to him, "What was that accident you mentioned earlier."

It took him a moment to realize she didn't understand the concept of cars.

"Oh, um. Back home, we have vehicles. Sort of like mechanical carriages, they have engines that can propel themselves. They're so common that most people have them. I have one, my mother does, my father does. Industry on Earth is enormous. What you would consider the most decadent luxuries here in Tamriel are common where I live."

"Wow. I'm sorry, I have to say it: but you really _are_ sheltered."

"Tell me about it. Anyway, I was driving mine home one night from a friend's house, then I got t-boned by... er. I was going across a crossroad, and some drunk asshole going way beyond the speed limit smashed right into the side of my car... on the side where I drive. My car was older, but thankfully not too old to have decent failsafes. Bags on all sides that inflate instantly and cushion impacts, try and block debris. But still, cars are fast. Faster than anything in Tamriel. And if you hit something that heavy at the speed that drunk shit was going... well, I'm lucky to be alive. Shit, I was lucky just to get away with some broken bones and a concussion. I was laid up in the hospital for a month, but I made a good recovery."

"And that drunkard hit you and then ran away?" Bastet asked.

"Oh yeah he did. Gave me the old Stephen King treatment. Er, Stephen King is a famous author who got hit by a drunk driver... but he had it way worse than me. He was on foot, was paralyzed for a long time, had to live in a wheelchair. Still, for me I can't say crawling out of your own car half-broken to escape flames while watching some asshole run away without even looking back is really fun."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Bastet said. "I've been in danger, but someone was always there for me. I can't imagine just being left behind, stranger or not."

"Yeah, he was a stranger, but he was the one who did it."

"Not much of an excuse."

"Oh for him? It sure as shit was. He'd been arrested multiple times for drunk driving. That little stunt he pulled landed him some time in jail and a permanent ban from driving. To top it all off, he initially refused to compensate me for damages. The law had to _make him_ cough up some money to get me a new car." Bastet shook her head.

"Okay, you're right, he's scum that one."

"And just when you think it's over, there's more!"

"Oh no!"

"I go to a bar with my friends, and I see him, he sees me. I just turn around, don't wanna deal with it. My friends understand. I thought he'd leave it at that. Nope! Comes after me. We don't get in a real fight, but there's a shouting match. He's giving me shit for costing him money. The only reason I don't knock his lights out is because my girl had her hand on my shoulder. Still, it's pretty fucked up when I'm being blamed for his horseshit."

"Too many of those about," Bastet said. "Here as well as your realm, it seems."

"Mm hmm. If there's one thing I can count on, even in Real Skyrim, Alvor's probably the only nice guy in the whole province." Bastet snorted.

"The border guards almost turned me away, just because I am Khajiit. Not hard to believe, but painful and quite literally an obstacle nonetheless. I had to bribe them." A short pause as she glowered at the ground. "Then again, if I hadn't crossed, I wouldn't have nearly been executed just because the Empire thought I was a Stormcloak. Pah. Me? A rebel? The Nords don't even allow Khajiit into most of the cities, and I doubt Windhelm is hardly different. Probably the capital of that idea, I'd wager. I have no love for the Empire, but none for the rebels either. And the Thalmor? They're the reason my family no longer live in Elsweyr. We never believed their lies. We knew it was Martin Septim who saved us from Oblivion... and the Champion of Cyrodiil. Even after all these years." She sighed.

"Dragonborn..." she whispered, twisting the wine bottle in her hand. "If only I'd never bribed them. Just returned to Bruma and sent letters to my sisters."

Huey shifted in his seat.

"Bastet, listen," he said, getting her attention. "I want to get home, but if we're going to travel together, I won't make it all about me. I'll help you in whatever way I can." Bastet smiled gratefully, nodding.

"Thank you... Huey?"

"You can just call me Hugh."

"No, I like Huey," she chuckled. "I digress. Thank you. You shouldn't worry either, I will try and help you." He nodded in gratitude. After another short silence, Bastet stood.

"I think we should probably get some sleep," she said. Huey got up too.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan," he agreed.

"Alvor again offered septims to us. He said we could use some old bed rolls and sleep by his hearth if we wanted, but he said he'd rather us sleep comfortably at the inn. Gave us some coin for beds and food and drink if we so desired." They began to walk back into the village, lantern posts casting a yellow glow on the wooden walls and hay-thatched roofs. The cobblestones beneath their feet were beginning to get slick with frozen dew.

"That guy's a little too kind for his own good," Huey commented, but was thankful to the man nonetheless. "A little money and food is one thing, but the armor? It's not cheap what he gave us."

"Yes, but I won't argue," Bastet said with a grin. Huey laughed.

"Yeah, you were acting all humble trying to say no."

"If the man wants to offer us his arm and leg, it's his prerogative. We had nothing before his offerings. But I am grateful, honestly." Huey nodded. They came to the inn and stepped inside. There were more people lingering than Huey expected, and instead of one bard with a lute it was a threesome with a drum, fiddle, and even an actual, bonafide guitar. The music was still all middle agey minstrel stuff, but sounded fuller with the multiple instruments.

Hugh and Bastet approached the counter, and Huey tried not to look like he recognized Delphine. Then tried to not think about punching her in the lip for saying that Paarthurnax should die. Oh shit, it was going to be fun, fun, fun having to tell Bastet about stuff before stuff happens.

"Evenin'. How can I help you?" Delphine asked.

 _Attic room so I can hang you from the rafters by your hair,_ Huey said mentally. Instead, Bastet said, "Two rooms. You want anything else?" she turned her head back at Huey.

"No, I'm set," he replied.

"Two rooms it is," Delphine said. "Available ones over there," she pointed to two doors beside each other. Bastet handed her twenty septims and they went to their doors. Huey was ready to sleep, definitely. Being forcibly transferred to a different universe and proceeding to be emotionally distraught by it tended to suck the vigor from one.

"We should awake early, Huey," Bastet said as they opened their doors.

"I'll be up. Five sound okay?"

"It does."

"Alright. Goodnight then."

"Goodnight." Huey entered and shut the door behind him. The sound of the patrons and music was muffled beyond. He approached the bed, a wooden frame with some hay stuffed into a cow skin, then covered with a deer-fur blanket. Most people from home would stick their noses up at it, but he sort of liked this rustic stuff. Taking off his footwear and pants, he climbed in and blew out the goat horn candle by the side of the bed, casting the room in darkness. Smirking, he grabbed his phone, set it to vibrate, then set the alarm for five AM. Somehow, probably by magical bullshit, the clock looked to be correctly depicting Sky Time. He wondered if Bastet would actually be up by then. She probably would, since traveling was obviously her lifestyle, but he wanted to test that out.

Ready for the morning, Hugh put the phone on the nightstand and rolled to his side. Thoughts of the horrors in Skyrim tried to make their way inside mind, but he let the sound of the bards distract him. Thankfully it was enough to let him ease into a restful sleep.


	3. 3: Come Together

Chapter III

Come Together

Hugh grabbed the phone from the nightstand as it began shaking violently, rousing him from his slumber. With a groan he swiped the screen and made it stop. For a few moments he kept his eyes closed, hoping that when he opened them he would be back in his cabin on Earth. Or in a hospital, rescued from hypothermia and that weird-ass hallucination about being in with the best goddamn ENB mod he had ever seen. But the hide bedding he was wrapped in told him that was just wishful thinking. Sighing heavily he opened his eyes and climbed out of bed. He pulled on his pants and shoes and exited his room.

In the main hall Delphine was tending the fire pit. Behind the counter on the wood-fire stoves a cook fried eggs and potatoes. On the counter itself glass pitchers were full of—what Huey guessed—snowberry juice. Along with a plate of breads that weren't fresh-baked by any means, but had been toasted in the oven for a short time.

"Help yourself to breakfast, no charge," Delphine said over her shoulder as she pushed the burning logs around with a poker.

 _Wow, Skyrim has continental breakfast. Good for them,_ Huey thought.

"Looks good, thanks," he said. He grabbed a plate of the bread, spread butter on it, poured a mug of snowberry juice and took a seat by the fire pit. Just as he began eating Bastet's door opened and she came out, not hesitating to go for the counter. The cook had just finished a round of eggs and potatoes as she poured herself a glass.

"Eggs, miss?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," said she, grabbing the plate from him. She went to Huey and claimed the seat next to him.

"You're going to eat just that?" she asked, eyeing the bread.

"Never was much of a breakfast guy," he replied, sipping the juice. And at that moment, he became the first Earthling to know that snowberries tasted like... snowberries.

"Good job, Kynareth," he muttered with a smirk. "Streamlining fruit juice. IGN would be proud."

"Are there going to be a lot of those jokes only you will get?"

"And then some."

The door to the inn opened, letting frigid morning air rush in, making the fire flutter with alarm. A man in thick leather clothes stepped inside, a fur hood and cloak draping over him. In his arms he held a stack of papers neatly bundled with twine.

"White-Horse Courier newsletter for ya," he said, dropping the bundle on a side table. This intrigued Huey greatly. Meanwhile, Bastet ate her eggs disinterestedly.

As the courier used a knife to cut the twine, Huey called, "Hey, toss us one, wouldja?"

"Will do!" the courier replied, grabbing a paper and underhanding it to Hugh. He grabbed it out of the air, waved his hand in thanks, then looked at the front page.

The head article read: " _Royal wedding to be held in Solitude in two weeks!_ " Ah. That must be the one between... uh... that chick you kill in the Dark Brotherhood questline. The Emperor's cousin. It hit Huey then, with no lesser force than a piano falling from the top of a building, that he could stop the whole affair just by going to that farm outside Whiterun and telling a guard that Cicero had the Night Mother in his cart.

"Shit..." he whispered. Bastet's ears twitched at him before her head turned.

"What is it?"

"Shit, uh... no, better not get involved," he told her, waving his hand.

"Sounded serious."

"Way serious."

"So why are you saying we shouldn't get involved?"

"Dark Brotherhood." When Bastet failed to answer, Huey took that as an indication that she begrudgingly agreed with him. He ignored that article and instead turned to other pages, skimming over opinion articles and editorials all concerning the civil war. One article caught his eye, about Whiterun itself.

" _Strange girl found nearly dead in fields outside Whiterun, by Talika Vakoff._

" _No more than two days ago, a patrol of Whiterun Hold guards were making their way down the road west of Whiterun City when they spotted scavengers circling overhead nearby. Normally they would associate this with the natural cycle, but what spurred them to investigate was a struggle where the birds were circling and a weak voice trying to drive them away. When they arrived at the scene they beheld a teenage girl who looked no older than sixteen or seventeen, pale and freezing. They quickly drove the birds away and offered her their cloaks, but not without noting her peculiar clothes. Thin, somewhat exposing, and unfit for the climes of Skyrim, even in a warmer area such as Whiterun Hold._

 _She wore blue pants of an odd material, bright red canvas shoes, and a black shirt. However, printed in vivid detail on the front was a strange symbol, almost daedric in nature. But emblazoned over the symbol were silver letters spelling 'Evanescene.'_ " Huey shot up straight, knocking his drink on the floor in the process, eyes wide. A few heads turned and Bastet looked at him, alarmed.

"What is it?" she asked, absentmindedly grabbing the spilled cup from the ground. He didn't reply, but kept on reading.

" _As the guards brought her back to the city they questioned the girl. She was delirious, saying she was from a place called 'Minasoda.'"_ That had to be Minnesota! She was from _Earth!_ _"When they asked her her name, she replied Johanna before passing out. She was brought to the healing house in the Wind District and is currently under the care of the healers. When one healer was questioned about the girl, he said the one named Johanna was recovering 'Slowly but surely.'_ "

There was more but that was enough for Huey. He tossed the paper away and got up.

"We have to go, _now!_ " he said to Bastet. She was confused, but obliged, but not before snatching up the copy of the White-Horse Courier for herself.

* * *

Within a few minutes they were in their armor and striding down the road leading out of Riverwood. Bastet's steel sword swung at her hip, the leather creaking against her plate male. While on Huey his bow jaunted slightly against the quiver of arrows on his back, his shortsword snug on his side.

When they were safely out of earshot of any villagers or guards, Bastet spoke up, "I read some of that article. That Johanna girl... she is from your world?"

"Yes," he replied. "The _Evanescence_ shirt. It's of some lame-o metal band, that's what gave it away. No one in Whiterun has any idea, of course. But this means I'm not alone. There could be more. I'm not the first, then, since the paper says she's been here for two days."

"Does she play the Skyrim game you think?"

"Dunno. Doesn't matter, she needs to be with us." He looked to Bastet then. "If you're willing..."

"Of course," she said back, looking slightly offended. "Since I may be one of the few Tamriel natives that knows the truth of this... it could be happening all over... how do we...?"

"All in good time. Let's just get to Johanna first," he said back. They hastily followed the road to Whiterun, winding along the White River through tall pines. Soon they came to the plains, yellowish green and going on for miles. Huey was taken aback by the vastness. At first he only thought the plains seemed far bigger because they were here in the flesh, but no, it wasn't a trick of the mind. He could only see the northern mountains as bluish silhouettes on the horizon, meaning they had to be twenty miles out at least. Then he saw Whiterun. It was _enormous!_ Massive walls and towers guarded hundreds of buildings, all climbing the hill they were erected upon to eventually come to Dragonsreach. The old Nord palace itself was twice the size of the 'original' version, both in width and height. Outside the walls sat even more buildings. Stables, farms, mills, and a small outer market of stalls. There were several gates leading into the city, too, not just one.

"As always, real life's a pain in the ass and video games only make things simpler and better," Huey sighed. "What a fucking zoo."

"Heh... this place?" Bastet said with a lopsided grin. "Is the game version of Tamriel really that different?"

"Actually, yeah. The game's resources are limited, so... basically they're just abridged versions. This is the _real_ Whiterun. Oh, and by the way..." Bastet looked to him again. "The most populated city on Earth? Tokyo, Japan. Over thirty-seven million." Bastet's jaw dropped.

"What? No, that's ridiculous. The entire planet of Nirn doesn't even..."

"Oh yeah, Earth. Twenty-seven thousand miles in diameter, total population estimated at seven billion. Cray-cray, huh?"

Bastet shook her head numbly. "And you mock our world for being strange and frightening."

"Hey, numbers aren't scary. Dragons, daedra, and bad meshes and textures are frightening. Thankfully we don't have the last problem, with good frame-rate to boot."

"Whatever you say," she responded with a sigh, shaking her head. Huey smirked as they continued downhill. They followed the road to Whiterun for a good fifteen minutes. The closer they got, the more Huey realized that this truly was the trade hub of Skyrim. Hundreds of people meandered in the markets and hamlets skirting the city. People of every race in Tamriel, selling hosts of exotic items. From combat and survival gear, to food and alchemical ingredients, to clothes and jewelry. It was like the Nexus! No wait, scratch that, there'd be more skimpy sex suits and anime shit if that was true.

Bastet and Hugh waded through the crowds as they made their way towards the central gate. The babble was almost overwhelming, coupled with the vendors shouting from their stands.

"Watch for pickpockets," Bastet said over her shoulder to Hugh. He kept his hand firmly on Alvor's gifted bag of coins Bastet had split with Huey. Just then, a group of children—urchins most likely—scrambled by, bumping into Bastet and Huey. He was pretty sure he felt a tug at his coin purse, but he kept his hand firmly on it. For a split second he noticed one boy eyeing the shortsword as he passed, but clearly thought better of it. Then just like that, they were gone, melding into the crowd behind the twosome.

After a bit more of maneuvering through the throng of buyers and sellers, they at last came to a final crowd all surrounding the front gate, the multitude shouting at a line of guards standing sentinel in front of the massive wooden doors.

 _Oh boy..._ Hugh thought, knowing what this was about.

One bold woman stood in front of the crowd, shouting the loudest.

"You keep us out because of some rumor of dragons returning! But what if it attacks?! You're all safe in your walls while we're stuck out here in the _open?!_ " she bellowed, the crowd roaring in approval.

"I'm under orders-" one guard began, but was cut off by the woman.

"Ohhh, _orders, orders, orders!_ " she mocked. "Maybe the Jarl should order you to have a conscience and let these people in!" The people cheered again as the guards remained silent.

Bastet slipped to the front with Huey, coming up beside the woman—an older merchant, dressed in a red dress. She was aging, a few gray hairs in her scalp and forehead, while the rest remained a mahogany color for now.

"You _should_ let them in," Bastet spoke up. "And the rumors aren't rumors, they're true." The crowd went quiet.

 _Typical,_ Huey thought. They didn't really believe dragons had returned, they just wanted in to the city. It's kind of amazing how an entire continent of people threatened multiple times by fantastical apocalypses can be so cynical every time well-known Elder Scrolls prophecies begin to come true.

"What are you talking about, cat?" the head guard asked, but Bastet and Hugh both heard a touch of apprehension in his voice. The woman who had been arguing with them actually seemed to be the only one that knew what Bastet was talking about.

"My companion and I escaped from Helgen," she announced, causing the crowd to murmur. "And there _was_ a dragon!" Gasps and shouts erupted, and the guards all glanced at each other, alarmed. "The size of this gate, black as night, and merciless as a daedra. So you may as well open the gates, not like it will make much of a difference. These walls can't stop birds from flying in, but at least they're not giant fire-breathing monsters."

"At least we can hide inside buildings!" one man shouted.

"Buildings that are _burning?_ " another retorted.

"But we need to get inside as well," Bastet spoke again. "To inform the Jarl. You should let everyone else in while you're at it." The crowd bellowed in approval.

But the head guard returned stubbornly, "But the Jarl already knows about the _rumors_. What makes you think he wants to listen to a lying, flea-ridden cat like you." There were a couple of laughs from the crowd, but most of them booed and jeered the guard. Bastet remained composed.

"Because I spoke with Alvor from Riverwood. He sent me to request aid from the Jarl. I promised him, and I intend to keep that promise."

"Is that a threat?" the guard retorted, letting a hand rest on the pommel of his sword.

At this Huey decided to put in his two cents, "You know there are way more people out here than just this lot, right?"

"What's your point, Imperial dog?"

"The point is once the 'rumor' starts kicking into full gear, you'll have thousands of panicking people wanting to bash your helmets in just to get inside. Savvy?"

"Another threat, huh?" Huey huffed and approached the man.

"Listen, shitbird, you better let everyone in, or you're going to have a real problem."

"I don't have a problem at all, I'm following orders, and as long as I do that, I'm in the right."

"Yeah, sure, okay. But see, here's the thing!" Huey exclaimed as he turned to address the crowd. "This guy is just following more than orders! He _personally_ doesn't want us in the city. And he's even denying two people who have a request to the Jarl for the protection of Riverwood. I think he _knows_ once we say to Jarl Balgruuf what we're going to say, the Jarl will change the orders and let you all in, because he's a decent man." The crowd murmured in approval.

"So, in some way," Huey continued, turning to the guard again, "You're... kind of disobeying the Jarl's wishes. He wants his people protected, and lemme tell you, bucko, you ain't doing much protecting."

"Ah! Fine!" the guard snapped, flinging his hands in the air. He spun around to the other guards. "Stand aside, men, unlock the gate. Tell the other gate guards to do the same. We're letting people into the city again." The crowd cheered and began clamoring with their belongings as the guards did as ordered. The head guard turned to Huey, however.

"Bet you think you're real clever, don't you?" he growled.

"It's what gets me by."

"Typical Imperial," the guard sneered, and with that walked away as the gate opened. Bastet approached as Hugh smiled smugly, she sharing a similar expression.

"Nice work, there," she said, the two of them making their way into the city.

"Hey, where I'm from, bureaucracy is king. I'm about average at rooting out bullshit at home, but here? Where everything's about honor and people are terrible at lying? It's easy to undo all the loopholes."

"Hmm. Maybe you're more an Imperial than you realize."

"Oh I get all the smarminess from my French roots. I'd probably fit right in at Cheydinhal or Chorrol."

Now that they were both in Whiterun, Hugh could really take in 'real' Whiterun. The streets were broader, bustling with dozens of men, women and children. There was the mostly-familiar sight of War Maiden's by the gate. The forge outside was much larger and had several other blacksmith apprentices, along with... what's-her-name. The outside-merchant. There were iron wares on display outside in locked cases, surrounding the entrance to the building. Across from War Maiden's was the Drunken Huntsman, larger than life and sporting a group of tipsy hunters loitering outside the front entrance with bottles of mead and ale in their hands. There were dozens of other buildings along the winding streets, some shops, others homes. Now _this_ was a city.

"When we get to the Wind District, we should split up," Bastet said to Hugh. "You can see Johanna in the Healing House, and I'll speak with the Jarl. We'll meet each other outside Jorrvaskr then speak to Oshana. Sound like a plan?"

"Sure does," he agreed. It took them a good ten minutes of weaving through crowds and pardoning themselves when bumping into someone before they came to the Gildergreen tree, marking the Wind District.

"Wow..." Huey murmured. The buildings in the square were taller and grander, painted with whites and golds and finely trimmed. The Temple of Kynareth was like a wooden version of the chapels in _Oblivion_. Tall and grand, standing above all the other structures besides Dragonsreach. Beside it was the Healing House, actually a wing of the temple. Bastet and Hugh stopped under the Gildergreen, sadly bare of leaves and marked by the lightning bolt that had seemingly killed it. Hugh wondered if someone would eventually quest to save the tree if he and Bastet ignored it.

"Hopefully it won't take long," she said to him. "Ahem. Any... tips?"

"Uh... seriously?" She shrugged.

"Well... after you tell him everything, he's going to ask you to go on a quest for him. We'll actually have to head back to Riverwood's direction to that Nord tomb Bleak Falls Barrow. They're gonna want us to return with an artifact called the Dragonstone."

"I see," she said. He could tell that didn't really help with whatever she was searching for.

"Listen, I can give you all the tips in the world and spoil the entire plot of the not-a-game—which may or may not come true, remember—but that ain't gonna make things that much easier... considering it was kind of predictable." She sighed, folding her arms and looking up at the tree.

"I guess I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this," she said softly.

"Welcome to the club." After a short silence, Huey said, "Okay, I'm gonna check on Johanna. I'll see you outside Jorrvaskr." She nodded in return and they both went off. Huey entered the Healing House. The room was large and open, brightly lit by roof windows. Across the wide floor rows of cots with feathered mattresses and violet linens adorned the hall. A few were occupied by men and women, changed out of their average clothing into thin white robes. Several priests and priestesses tended the wounded and sickly with potions and the golden glow of healing magic. Hugh observed the magic and potions and their effects. They weren't deus ex machinas, of course. They seemed to only stabilize and offer some pain relief, but the wounds obviously needed to heal on their own.

As Hugh looked around a priestess approached him.

"Greetings, child. You look to be searching for someone?"

"Yes. I'm looking for Johanna?"

"Ah, the strange girl. You know her?"

"I do," he lied. "Cousin from Bruma. I'm in Whiterun on business, but then I saw that article about her in the White-Horse."

"I see. Finally, we can find out what is true about her," the priestess replied, relieved. She lead Hugh through the rows of beds to another room. "She was delirious, wearing those strange clothes, saying she was from places called 'America' and 'Minnesota.' I am no traveler, but I'm educated in Tamriel's provinces and do not know of such places. She said they were a country and a state, after all."

"The cold must have messed with her mind."

"Hopefully not permanently. She spoke of these things this morning. By all rights, she is fully recovered. Warm, satiated, and in proper cloth. Distressed, but not manic. She tried to reason with us quite civilly that she is from those imaginary lands."

"I'll talk to her, see what's wrong. She's always had an active imagination, maybe the shock of what's happened to her is just lasting a little longer than normal."

The next room they found themselves in was a corridor with several doors. Presumably they were private rooms. One such door was closed. Huey swallowed, the lump in his throat returning. The priestess knocked on the door.

"Johanna, you cousin is here to see you. Are you decent?"

"Cousin?" a girl's voice came from the door. "Yeah, come in." The priestess pushed the door open and let Hugh in. Johanna sat on the side of her bed, dressed in the same white robes as the other patients, thin slippers on her feet. She was dark haired, the color of earth, with gray eyes; skin pale and young, with her body still maturing. Still a little gaunt with her brush with hypothermia, but otherwise healthy.

Johanna of course didn't recognize Huey, so he spoke to the priestess before Johanna could say anything, "Could you give us the room, please?"

"Of course, I'll be right outside if you need me," she said back. The door closed behind her, and the two Earthlings faced each other.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"My name's Huey Sylvester. Now don't freak, but I'm from Earth. Ontario." Her eyes lit up and she jumped out of bed.

"Really?!" she cried.

"I said don't freak!" he hissed. She shrunk back, covering her mouth.

"Sorry," she said under her hand.

"Just take it easy. You're from Minnesota?"

"Yeah!" She looked surprised. "How...?"

"There was an article about you in the paper, that's how I found this place and came to see you."

"What the hell is going on?!"

"I don't know. I only, er... 'got here' yesterday. But the paper said you'd been here for two days."

"Here in this... hospital place," she corrected. "But I was out in those fields for one other night. It was terrifying. There were _giants!_ And _mammoths!_ I've never played Skyrim, but I know what this place is... are we really there? Uh, here?"

"We sure as shit are," he moaned, going over to a visitor's chair and slumping into it. "So how'd you end up here? I mean, like, where were you on Earth before you found yourself in the fields?"

She sat down again and recounted, "I was home. My parents were out, and my brother was at work, so I was on my own. I was just watching TV when... this _wind_ just started up _inside the house!_ We had the windows closed because it's freezing outside, but this wasn't just some draft. I got up but got knocked on my back." She shivered. "Then I went blind for a few moments, all this noise in my ears. And when I could see again... I saw stars. Constellations I didn't recognize. Then I sat up and I was in the field." She hugged herself and remained silent.

"Jesus," he whispered. "I was out in the woods when it happened to me. Hunting. Did you see anything else before you woke up in the field?"

"I don't know, I think I was just seeing things... but I thought I saw a... _crab_ before I was knocked down. _Ginormous!_ And gray, but I didn't get a good look at it."

"Weird. I was a sabercat before I got sent here."

"Sabercat? You mean like a saber-tooth lion?"

"Yeah. Big motherfucker. Lucky I was hunting, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to shoot it before it attacked me."

"So wait, you have a gun?"

" _Did_. Lost it during the tutorial," he chuckled.

"That's not funny."

"Hehe, yes it is." She huffed indignantly.

"So do you actually know how to fight with swords and stuff?"

"Not really. I can do okay with a bow, but we've got a hero on our side who can actually fight."

"So wait, you're teamed up with the main character?"

"Her name's Bastet, and yes, she's the Dragonborn."

"What's that mean?"

"It means she can use the ancient powers dragons use, and she's the only mortal that can permanently destroy a dragon by devouring its soul."

"Eww..."

"It's not gross or anything. They just kind of burn away and she'll absorb them like a black hole of dragon-munching."

"That's not much of a better picture."

"Point is we've got friends in high places. Although..." She looked at him inquisitively.

"What?"

"Well, no offense, but you don't seem cut out for this kind of... experience. I know I'm one to talk, but I've already been in a few battles, so I know I can handle myself. But you're just a kid."

"I'm sixteen," she snapped. "I know I'm youngish, but I'm not a child. You can't be much older."

"I'm thirty."

"Oh."

"Hey, if you thought I looked twenty or something, I'll take the compliment. Anyway, you _are_ a kid, considering you like _Evanescence_ -"

"Hey!"

"But could you honestly say that you'd be able to keep cool in a tomb full of draugr?"

"What are those?"

"Ugh, they're zombies with swords. Or giant spiders?"  
"I love spiders."

"Yeah, well, spiders don't love you. And here they're taller than most people. Also, they spit venom as well as injecting it."

"Okay, okay... you've made your point," she mumbled.

"Look, I'm not going out of my way to try and upset you. I'm trying to protect you. But at the same time, we should stick together. Bastet is our best chance at getting back home. She'll come across people who might know about what's happening."

"Do you think we'll find others like us?"

"Maybe. But we'll need to find out more than just getting home. We need to stop this so it doesn't happen to other people."

"Yeah," she agreed, nodding vehemently. "Do you... do you think if we get back, everything will be... normal?"

"Like we never left? I really can't say... but I doubt it. I say that so you should... prepare yourself. This could take months to get to the bottom to. And we'll be considered missing persons if months go by back on Earth. Well, you'd be missing. I'd probably be declared legally dead, since I disappeared in a remote area."

"Oh my God!"

"Yeah, fun times," Huey muttered, clasping his hands. There was a long silence. Johanna played with the strings on her robe while Huey sat in thought, brooding at the floor. But he needed to get back to it.

"So," he spoke up, rising to his feet, "Did the priestess clear you to leave yet?"

"They think I'm crazy," she said, chuckling humorlessly. "I wish I was."

"I know the feel."

"I think they'll let me leave. But I probably shouldn't be wearing jeans and a tank around the middle ages. Or this freezing-ass place."

"I've got you covered. I could buy you some good traveling clothes. But for now, just put on your old clothes. People won't really care, they'll just think you're weird."

"Nothing new there."

"How's that?"

"Oh you know. I'm the weird girl because I like video games and metal."

"Meet the new century, same as the old century. Also, _Evanescence_ equals metal? Does not compute."

"Don't be an elitist!"

"Oh I'm all sorts of elitist! I like trve kvlt medul! I am a part of the PC Master Race, and I'm a nostalgic eighties kid. And to top off the cancer, I use the word 'cancer' metaphorically."

"I guess I should just jump off a cliff right now, then," she sighed, stepping behind a screen and changing into her old clothes.

"It'll save you the trouble of going insane."

"So anyway, who's Bastet?" She gasped. "Is she a kitty like the ones I saw outside the city?!"

 _Uh oh..._ "Yes, she's a _Khajiit_. Don't be a weaboo furry about it and make it weird for all of us."

"Wow, you're a dick!"

"The biggest. Seriously, though, don't make it weird."

"Well I'm sorry if meeting cat people is normal to you."

"It ain't. I just don't make it weird."

"Wow."

"Yep, I'm a real pain in the ass, and I love me for it."

After Johanna was dressed, the two of them left the room. The priestess smiled at Johanna.

"Good to have some family by you side, yes?"

"Yup. I love my cousin!" she proclaimed, wrapping her arm around Hugh's shoulders.

 _Laying it on a little thick, there,_ Huey groaned mentally. But the priestess beamed, apparently not much smarter.

"Good to see you in high spirits! I presume you're from Bruma, as well?"

"Sure am!"

"Good. Glad we got that America nonsense out of your poor head." It took every fiber of Huey's being not to burst out laughing at that.

"So... oh, uh..." Johanna looked worried all of a sudden. "How much do I... owe you?" The priestess looked startled, holding her hand over her chest.

"My dear girl, this is the House of Kynareth! She does not seek money. She seeks to soothe the hurt and ill. You were such, and by her mercy, are now not. Pray thanks at her alter, and simply be on your way."

Johanna smiled (a bit awkwardly) then went with Huey down the hall. The priestess entered Johanna's old room, probably to tidy up. The two Earthlings entered the main hall of the temple. At the end upon an altar sat the violet iron, sapphire owl statue: Kynareth's shrine.

"Probably should pray to her, since she's real here," Hugh said to Johanna.

"But I'm Christian," she whispered back.

"That's a whole universe away, Johanna. I could get into an atheistic argument over it, but here, in this world: the Nine Divines have proven multiple times how real they are. And I bet Kynareth really did save you, because by all rights, you should've been eaten by the wolves and sabercats that roam the fields." She turned to him, wide-eyed.

"Look," he said, putting her hand on her shoulder, "I'm not saying these things to freak you out, I just want you to understand how this place works. Or, how the real version works anyway. You've never played Skyrim, I have, but that doesn't really matter. We're both more vulnerable here than we ever have been in our lives. We don't have electricity, super markets, police officers or cars. Just the clothes on our backs. So I suggest we both pray to every god in Aetherius when we can, including Talos, so fuck anyone who says there's only Eight Divines."

"Heh, you sound like my super hardcore religious aunt, only she'd say Jesus."

"Yeah, well, as an atheist it's my responsibility to amend my beliefs when there's physical proof of a deity."

"Whoa..."

"Keanu Reeves, nineteen ninety-nine." Johanna laughed at that. It made Huey feel slightly less like an asshole, considering all the hard truths he had been putting on her in all twenty minutes of knowing her. So they approached the shrine and knelt before it together. Huey had once identified as Catholic when he was a teenager, but had started disbelieving all that a little before turning twenty. But here, now? This was probably as strange for him as it was for Johanna.

 _Kynareth... listen, I know you love nature, and your Spriggans are your wrath given form on Nirn... but seriously, people have to eat and build their homes. So maybe tone down the 'fucking kill everything' default setting Spriggans seem to be on all the time. Unless, you know, that was just Bethesda being lazy with their AI, because they've always been good at AI. Wait, what the fuck am I doing, you're probably actually listening-_

Huey—trying really hard to be graceful—stood from the shrine, almost habitually doing the Father, Son and Holy Spirit gesture. He felt stupid, having just telepathically sent a rude letter to a divine being. Johanna followed his lead, started to get up, then actually did the sign of the cross. She gasped slightly when she realized her slip. Huey couldn't take it anymore and finally laughed. Heads turned and he quickly shut himself up.

"Alright, time to go," he said hastily, taking Johanna by the shoulder. He smiled politely at some of the healers as they left, their eyes following him with befuddled looks. At last they were outside in the sunny, warmish Whiterun Hold air. Johanna stopped to gaze around, mesmerized by the sights around her. Huey took the opportunity to light himself a cigarette.

"Eww, do you know how bad those are?" Johanna scolded.

"Ugh, don't be a poser," he replied with fake Goth kid tone "If you want to be a non-conformist, you have to drink coffee and smoke cigarettes like the rest of us."

"I don't... know that one."

"You don't watch _South Park_?"

"No way, that show is so rude!"

"Talos save me..."

"Are you seriously going to be doing that?"

"Yeah, I am. Unlike the other place, someone might actually be listening."

"Uch. Whatever."

"Come on, we have to meet Bastet," Huey grunted, sticking the cigarette in his mouth so he could puff and walk. They walked around the Gildergreen, and then came to—ugh—Heimskr.

"...So rise up, Stormcloaks! Riiiise up, children of the Empire!"

"What's with that guy?" Johanna asked.

"He's the village annoying-fuck," Huey answered.

"Sounds more like a preacher."

"Same difference."

"What's he going on about?"

"So basically there's a group of Elven Nazis—the Thalmor—who are trying to keep the human race under thumb, and they outlawed the worship of Talos because he's the only mortal man to ever ascend to godhood. There was this big war, and the Thalmor won, and made the Empire their bitch. So the Stormcloaks are Skyrim Nords fighting for independence from the Empire, and now the Empire is here trying to quell the rebellion because Skyrim by law is part of the Empire. That's the basic version, anyway."

"Okay, note to self: Stormcloaks rule."

"Aha! It's not that simple, Johanna. But we'll get into that later," he said, nodding over in the direction ahead of him.

At the top of the stairway that lead to the Jorrvaskr Mead Hall (twice the size of the 'original') Bastet waited, leaning on a lamp post.

"She's beautiful," Johanna whispered in awe.

"Remember, _don't_ make it weird," Huey muttered. Bastet stood straight when Johanna and Hugh approached.

"All is well?" she asked, looking at Johanna.

"Um, y-yes, thank you," she said back. "I'm uh, I'm Johanna."

"So I've heard," Bastet replied, holding out here hand. Johanna went for the hand but Bastet clasped her by the wrist. Johanna fumbled to do the same.

"Uh, sorry," she said hastily, shaking and letting go. Bastet glanced at Huey with a brow slightly raised.

"Kids, eh?" said he. Johanna shot him a venomous look at that.

"Well, stick with us, girl. We'll keep you safe," Bastet assured Johanna. "So, Hugh. How do you think we should tell my sister about your... predicament?"

"Same way I told you."

"That's it?"

"What, you want me to draw up some pie charts and a power point? Showing her the video will be fine, it's pretty compelling evidence."

"She can be stubborn."

"Well you're her sister, you keep telling her what's what and she'll come around."

"You don't know her like I do."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before. She'll come around. For now, let's just get her to join the Dream Team and go raid us a sacred tomb full of peacefully sleeping spirits."

"Just don't put it like that, she's a bit superstitious."

"Oh joy."

"Indeed."

The threesome stepped to the doors of Jorrvaskr. Leaning against the wall outside was a tall man in steel armor. Huey didn't recognize him. He was black haired and green eyed, with a thin goatee circling his lips. He was maybe a little older than Hugh, and had a small scar on his cheek that shined in the sunlight. He looked at them disdainfully.

"What's your business here?" he demanded. "I know it's not to join, none of you look like Companion material."

"I've come to see my sister, Oshana," Bastet replied nonplussed.

"Oh, her," he grumbled. Hugh thought he saw hint of jealousy on his face. Uh oh, looks like someone's being out-shined. "Last I saw she was out back. What do you want with her anyway?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Johanna said suddenly, trying way too hard to sound tough. Huey had to hide a cringe and resist facepalming. The man's gaze fell upon her. She swallowed at that.

"Don't you have school work to do, girl?" he sneered at her. Hugh again had to stifle a snort, but he stepped in.

"Lay off, pal. She's new in town, trying to impress everyone."

"Wow, great help," she retorted.

"Enough," Bastet growled. "We have better things to do than argue with a whelp."

"What did you call me?" the man snapped, standing straight with daggers in his stare. But she ignored him and lead Hugh and Johanna away. Hugh thought he would pursue, but he just muttered to himself, storming back into the mead hall. What a poser.

They wrapped around the hall and came to the back patio. At one of the tables sat Aela the Huntress, her unmistakable blue face paint and armor making her stand out from the other Companions in their steel and Wolf armors. Beside her was seated a Khajiit, definitely Bastet's sister. She had dark, charcoal gray fur and amber eyes, with her ears were done up with tufts in the style of a lynx. She wore armor similar to Aela's, only black and gray. She was leaning back with a cup in one hand, lazily playing with one of the tufts on her ear while Aela discussed something. Hugh wondered if Oshana had found out about the beastblood yet... or had partook.

Oshana turned and saw Bastet as they came closer. A grin came across her face and her ears shot right up. Aela followed her gaze as Bastet strode over, a wide smile on her face as well. Oshana stood immediately and both greeted each other in the Khajiiti tongue. Aela watched with an interested expression as the two embraced each other, babbling in their language and laughing. Johanna and Hugh came to the table, Aela taking notice of them.

"Hmph, the 'Strange Girl.' What was a milk drinker like you doing in those fields at night?" the huntress asked callously.

"Well, I, uh..." she stumbled.

"Out with it, girl!"

"Ah give the kid a break, she's had a rough time," Hugh interjected. Which was partly true, but he mainly said that because they didn't really have a cover story explaining how she ended up in the Whiterun Plains. He just hoped Aela wouldn't ask anymore questions.

"Quite," she said back, but had a clear look of suspicion as she took in Johanna, and Hugh for that matter, despite him looking more 'the part' with his armor. She decided to ignore them, thankfully, and turned back to the sisters.

"I guess you're Bastet, considering you're not throwing about spells and being smug about it."

"You'll meet Jasi soon enough, Aela. I just know how excited you are for that moment," Oshana shot back.

"Oh I'm waiting with bated breath," the huntress replied.

"For now you'll have to contend with Bastet... and her new friends..." Oshana at last took notice of the Earthlings, but not without some appraising disdain.

"Hogarth and Johanna," Bastet introduced them. "I met Hogarth on the road, he gave me a hand dealing with an ambush of frostbite spiders, and it's better to travel with a partner. In fact he knows Johanna. He was on his way to Whiterun to retrieve her when he spotted me having trouble with those insects."

"Pleasure," Hugh said to Oshana, offering his hand. She 'wrist shook' him, then did the same to Johanna.

"Well, I can see you all want to get caught up," Aela spoke as she rose from her seat. "We can talk later, Oshana."

"Of course," she said back, and Hugh noticed she looked a little troubled. Maybe this _was_ about the beastblood. When Aela took her leave, Oshana turned back to Bastet.

"So what happened on your way here? You look troubled, and I can tell it has little to do with a few spiders."

"Is there somewhere more private we can speak?" Bastet asked.

"There are a few rooms in the bottom floor of Jorrvaskr where we can speak undisturbed. Come." With that Oshana led them into the mead hall. The interior was cavernous almost, much like the game version of Dragonsreach. A fire pit roared at the center of a collection of long tables covered in fine plates and goblets, all stacked with rich food and drink. A great number of Companions ate and talked at the tables, swapping stories, telling jokes, and arguing as warriors do. The guy that was outside earlier sat away from the center tables and instead drank from an amber bottle in a corner seat, eyeing their little company sourly, especially Oshana. Looks like someone has to attend Jelly School, m'kay?

The foursome descended a flight of stairs into the 'cellar' of the mead hall; long and sporting at least two dozen doors. Oshana made a beeline for one door and pushed it open. She stood aside to let them enter the small room. A circular table sat at the center beneath an iron chandelier of goat-horn candles. It was a pretty sparse room, and only seemed to just be a Nordic conference room. They all took seats across from each other after Oshana shut and locked the door.

"So," the dark-haired Khajiit sighed, "What happened? And who are these two, really?"

"Well..." Bastet swallowed, clasping her hands on the table. "For _me_ , it began when I tried to cross the border. Imperials and Stormcloaks were in a skirmish, just my luck. But it was more than that. Ulfric himself was with those Stormcloaks."

"I've been hearing that rumor that he was captured but then escaped because of a... dragon. That can't be true... can it?" Oshana asked. Bastet sighed wistfully.

"I am afraid so. The Imperials captured me along with them, declared me a rebel as well."

"Gods, Bastet... you... they were..."

"Yes... I was in line on the chopping block." Oshana cursed in Khajiiti. "You shouldn't worry now; I'm here, I'm fine."

"I know, but just the thought of those cretins falsely accusing you... then _murdering_ you!" Oshana shivered, but Bastet took her hand, murmuring some words of comfort in Khajiiti. Oshana smiled gratefully and said something back before they both leaned back in their seats.

"But honestly," Bastet continued, "That's the _least_ interesting part. A dragon appeared before the rest of the executions could take place. It uttered something in its language, made fire fall from the sky! Just like in those stories Baymar used to tell us back in Rimmen."

"But doesn't the prophecy state dragons returning a sign of the End Times?" Hugh let out in involuntary snort. Oshana looked sharply at him, then said, "I assure you, it's no laughing matter. You should be more aware of the Elder Scrolls prophecies, since people seldom are."

"Oh it's not that," Hugh said back. "I agree with you, actually. It's just, how many 'End Times' has Tamriel been through? A handful. And as far as I can tell, the times haven't ended. The prophecies should be renamed, 'Some tool _tries_ to end the world, but really sucks at it when he's defeated by a mortal.' Like, every time." Johanna started snickering at that.

"So true," she said.

"And... that's when this fool comes in," Bastet sighed, gesturing at Hugh, who waved and grinned at an unimpressed Oshana.

"Oh I came in, alright," he replied, reaching into a pocket and pulling out his phone.

"Oh... I wonder if mine works..." Johanna said suddenly, pulling an iPhone from her pocket. "Charging? But it's not plugged in!"

"Here," Hugh said, letting Oshana take the device with a perplexed look. "Take a gander, Ned Flanders." Bastet watched her sister as the trailer began playing.

"What is this daedric trickery?" Oshana demanded, but her attention on the screen was rapt.

"That's also something I should consider," Hugh thought aloud. "Maybe a daedric prince was in on it."

"That could be problematic," Bastet remarked.

"Like it already isn't?"

"A what prince?" Johanna asked.

"Demon lords, basically," Hugh explained. "Tamriel has, I think, twelve demi-Satans. Although two of them are actually good...ish, and one just wants to party hardy."

"This is ridiculous," Oshana blurted out as the trailer ended. She tossed the phone onto the table, shaking her head, but it was clear she was shaken up. "What even was that? And who are _you?_ The both of you."

"For the record I haven't played Elder Scrolls," Johanna put in. "I'm more into JRPGs."

"I think they have a cream for that," Hugh shot back, making Johanna pout at him. "But the important thing here is... well, Johanna and I are from a different world. Well, universe. Yeah, an entire universe," he said to Oshana when she gaped at him. "You have aedra and daedra and Oblivion, and we have... uh, infinity that might not be infinity. Some scientists say our universe—as ginormous as it is—is finite, while others add that it's expanding. But that's not important-"

"Um, hold on, yes it _is!_ " Bastet cried. "You said with that... multiverse thing that our worlds are all bubbles floating next to each other! If yours is expanding then doesn't that mean it might collide with _ours?_ It could explain how you got here." Johanna and Hugh looked at each other. She was pale, and so was he, probably. Poor Oshana was just lost and looking between the three of them dumbly.

"Okay, that _might_ be true," Hugh said, "But the whole expanding thing is a theory. Sure there's _some_ evidence of it being true, but nothing's confirmed. Right now I think we should just focus on the dragons, and then how we're going to get me and Johanna home."

Bastet sighed, rubbing her eyes with her palms. She looked to Oshana then.

"Sister, I know this is hard to believe, but... there's some truth ringing to it. Hugh... somewhat knows what goes on in this Skyrim, based on his experiences with the fictitious one."

"Like he's a seer?" Oshana asked, looking incredulously at the Canadian.

"Eh... sorta," Hugh said. He looked to Bastet. "So did the Jarl send you on the quest for the Dragonstone?"

"He did," Bastet said, nodding, looking at Oshana. "Hugh said that would happen, and it did."

"It doesn't mean I'll be right every time," he added. "If you're questioning your existence right now, don't. You're not the product of someone else's imagination in a different realm."

"I thought as much briefly," Bastet said. "But he's right. We can't explain how our world can be fictitious in another, but what's important to know is that we _are_ real."

"So what is it we're going to do?" Oshana asked. "Search for the Dragonborn?"

"Well... don't really have to..." Hugh said, jerking his thumb at Bastet. Oshana blinked silently.

"She... no, no, that's ridiculous... er, no offense, Bastet. But the Dragonborn was a nord in that... thing you showed me."

"That's the thing with the Skyrim game," Hugh argued "The Nord you saw was a placeholder, but in the game you can create your own character, and he or she could be of any race in Tamriel, including Khajiit. Plus, even in actual Tamrielic history, there have been Dragonborn people of non-nordic descent. So it's not so far-fetched to say a Khajiit can be the next Dragonborn."

"It is the will of the Divines, Oshana," Bastet said. "Anyone can be a hero in times of crisis, and the Divines can pick anyone." There was a short silence. Oshana stood and leaned against the wall with her arms folded, her brow furrowed in deep thought.

At last, she turned back and said, "I will come with you on your task. If you really are Dragonborn... I will be with you until the end. The Companions will have to wait... although honestly, I don't think there's much left for me here anyway." She murmured the last sentence to herself, but Bastet heard.

"Why is that, sister?" Oshana shook her head.

"A disagreement I am having with the Circle... the veteran members of the Companions." Bastet could see Oshana didn't want to reveal too much about it, so she decided to leave it at that.

"That's unfortunate, I know how much you wanted to be here after listening to Baymar's tales."

"Ahh..." Oshana waved her hand. "They were tales, nothing more. They're decent people, and I've had some good adventures, but we just don't see eye-to-eye on key things. Let's just hope Jasi is having a better time at the college."

"Or not," Bastet joked. Oshana snickered.

"Oh come now. Even Jasi would have to pause her precious study of the 'arcane arts' to help her dear little sisters, magicless bags of meat as they may be." The two of them laughed together.

Johanna leaned towards Hugh and asked quietly, "Why is it that mages are always pompous in fantasy stories?"

"Because tropes. What else is there?"

"Good point."

"So," Oshana said, turning to Hugh and Johanna with a smirk, "Can these whelps actually fight?"

"Hugh is decent with a bow. Her, I doubt," Bastet answered.

"Well?" Oshana asked of them expectantly.

"Oh, uh, um..." Johanna sputtered.

"Yeah, what she said," Hugh interjected, waving at Bastet.

"Well I've got to contribute _somehow!_ " Johanna exclaimed.

"You can not get in our way, I think that would be best," Oshana said.

"I don't know," Bastet said back thoughtfully, rubbing her chin. "Maybe she can assist us if we get hurt, be ready with potions and healing scrolls." Hugh smirked at Johanna and nudged her.

"There, Jo, you get to be the White Mage."

"Oh yeah, and what're you?" she demanded.

"I'm the Cuntsman Sniper, obviously. Probably should start drinking a lot so I can have some Jarate ready."

"Ew!"

"Is this going to be a regular occurrence with them?" Oshana asked Bastet dryly.

"I'm afraid so," she answered with the same tone.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," Hugh said, heaving himself from the chair. "We'll try not to embarrass you too much in front of important people."

"Like I care what a bunch of smelly nords think," Oshana shot back.

"Well, well, I see being here has really gotten to you," Bastet remarked with a smirk.

"I was at Windhelm a few weeks ago. That damned cesspit has left a sour taste in my mouth, from the Nords and Dunmer alike. But Windhelm is Windhelm, it's been fine here," Oshana said. She went to the door and unlocked it.

"So..." she looked to the three as they stood side-by-side. One armored warrior, one armored hunter pretending to be a warrior, and one high schooler in an _Evanescence_ T. "These are my new Shield-Sisters and Brother, it seems. Gods help me."


	4. May I have your attention, plox?

Attention Duelists! My hair is telling me that this story won't be updated on this account again. Instead it's being reuploaded to this guy's main account: Spog the Brick in the Wall, where it will be further uploaded. To see the fourth chapter, go to that profile and forget about this place, because this is just a now defunct alt account. Thanks, and have fun. -GabeN


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